BT  715  .M3 

Mackintosh,  Robert,  1858 
1933  . 

Christianity  and  sin 


. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


STUDIES  IN  THEOLOGY 

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A  Critical  Introduction  to  the  New  Testament 

By  Arthur  Samuel  Peake,  D.D. 

Faith  and  its  Psychology 

By  the  Rev.  William  R.  Inge,  D.D. 

Philosophy  and  Religion 

By  the  Rev.  Hastings  Rashdall,  D.Litt.  (Oxon), 
D.C.L.  (Durham),  F.B.A. 

Revelation  and  Inspiration 

By  the  Rev.  James  Orr,  D.D. 

Christianity  and  Social  Questions 

By  the  Rev.  William  Cunningham,  D.D.,  F.B.A. 
Christian  Thought  to  the  Reformation 
By  Herbert  B.  Workman,  D.Litt. 

Protestant  Thought  Before  Kan£ 

By  A.  C.  McGiffert,  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

An  Outline  of  the  History  of  Christian  Thought 
Since  Kant 

By  Edward  Caldwell  Moore,  D.D.  * 

The  Christian  Hope:  A  Study  in  the  Doctrine  of 
Immortality 

By  William  Adams  Brown,  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

The  Theology  of  the  Gospels 

By  the  Rev.  James  Moffatt,  D.D.,  D.Litt. 

The  Text  and  Canon  of  the  New  Testament 

By  Alexander  Souter,  D.Litt. 

A  Critical  Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament 

By  the  Rev.  George  Buchanan  Gray,  D.D.,  D.Litt. 

A  Handbook  of  Christian  Apologetics 
By  Alfred  Ernest  Garvie,  M.A.,  D.D. 

Gospel  Origins 

By  the  Rev.  William  West  Holdsworth,  M.A. 

The  Religious  Ideas  of  the  Old  Testament 

By  H.  Wheeler  Robinson,  M.A. 

Christianity  and  Sin. 

By  Robert  Mackintosh,  D.D. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


BV 

ROBERT  MACKINTOSH, 


V 

FEB  27  1914 


{ft*. 


iBosm  $3 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 

1914 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/christianitysinOOmack 


PREFACE 


The  reader  will  observe  that  Chapters  i-iv  deal  with  the 
Old  Testament  and  its  period,  v-viii  with  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment,  and  ix-xii  with  post-biblical  history.  It  would 
also  be  possible  to  draw  a  dividing  line  after  Chapter  ix. 
Up  to  that  point  everything  studied,  even  the  most 
sacred  and  most  authoritative,  belongs  to  the  world  of 
ancient  thought.  From  Chapter  x  onwards,  the  atmos¬ 
phere  is  or  ought  to  be  modern. 

Some  points  for  which  space  was  lacking  in  Chapter  vn 
of  this  book  are  more  fully  treated  in  an  article  in 
the  Expositor  for  May  1913  upon  ‘  The  Roots  of  St. 
Paul’s  Doctrine  of  Sin.’  Similarly,  in  connection  with 
Chapter  vi,  I  might  name  three  articles  contributed  to 
the  Expository  Times  for  1905  on  ‘  The  Dawn  of  the 
Messianic  Consciousness.’ 

In  terminating  a  task  of  three  years,  I  pray  God  that, 
in  spite  of  all  deficiencies,  this  little  book  may  make  some 
contribution  to  the  study  of  a  topic  which,  however 
difficult  and  painful,  is  inseparably  connected  with  faith 
in  Christ. 


R.  M. 


CONTENTS 

HISTORICAL 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  PRE-PROPHETIC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL  ...  1 

31.  HAMARTIOLOGY  IN  THE  GREAT  PROPHETS  AND  UNDER 

THEIR  INFLUENCE . 12 


III.  IN  THE  PRIESTLY  CODE  AND  THE  LATER 

BOOKS  . 

IV.  IN  JUDAISM . 

V.  IN  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

VI.  IN  THE  LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 
VII.  IN  THE  DISTINCTIVE  TEACHING  OF  ST 
VIII.  IN  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  GENERALLY 
IX.  THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 
X.  THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 
XI.  THE  EFFORTS  AT  THEOLOGICAL  RESTA 
XII.  THE  CONTRIBUTION  OF  EVOLUTIONARY 


OLD  TESTAMENT 


PAUL 


rEMENT 

SCIENCE 


29 

44 

56 

64 

76 

88 

99 

111 

124 

137 


CONSTRUCTIVE 

XIII.  SIN  AND  THE  MORAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  . 

XIV.  SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL . 

XV.  DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN . 

XVI.  THE  FORGIVENESS  OF  SINS . 

XVII.  THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN  ..... 

XVIII.  THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY  OF  SIN 

BIBLIOGRAPHY . 

GENERAL  INDEX  . 

rii 


148 

157 

170 

181 

192 

206 

219 

225 

229 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


CHAPTER  I 

PRE-PROPHETIC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL 

When  Julius  Muller  wrote  his  classical  monograph  upon 
the  doctrine  of  sin,  he  elected  without  hesitation  to  follow 
what  he  called  a  speculative  method.  His  choice  was 
natural,  for  he  wrote  under  the  influence  of  the  great 
idealist  systems  of  German  philosophy.  At  the  present 
day  a  different  choice  is  no  less  plainly  incumbent  upon 
us.  We  live  in  an  age  of  research.  Philosophy  is  weaker 
than  of  old,  but  the  science  of  history  grows  stronger  and 
stronger.  Even  so  great  a  theologian  as  Albrecht  Ritschl 
failed  to  adjust  himself  adequately  to  the  new  historical 
reading  of  the  religion  of  Israel.  Or  rather  perhaps,  when 
Ritschl  wrote,  results  were  not  so  clearly  defined  as  they 
now  are.  If  a  Christian  theologian  of  to-day  is  to  keep 
in  touch  with  all  the  Biblical  material  regarding  sin,  he 
must  make  it  plain  to  himself  and  to  his  readers  that  we 
start  comparatively  low  down.  The  conceptions  of  sin 
which  the  earlier  portions  of  the  Old  Testament  literature 
reveal  might  very  nearly  be  called  pre-ethical.  Not  until 
the  great  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament  do  ethical 
standards  predominate.  Not  until  we  study  the  teaching 
of  Christ  and  of  the  New  Testament  do  we  find  such 
standards  supreme. 

We  may  begin  our  work  with  a  provisional  definition. 
In  terms  of  the  old  logic,  one  might  say  that  the  essence  or 

A 


2 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


formal  cause  of  sin  is  twofold.  Sin  is  guilt,  and  sin  is  guilt 
as  against  God.  In  non-biblical  religions  we  might  fre¬ 
quently  be  able  to  contrast  sins  as  such — wrongs  committed 
directly  against  God  or  the  gods — with  crimes  as  such, 
i.e.  with  wrongs  inflicted  upon  man  or  the  community 
(tribe,  city,  state).  In  the  Old  Testament  we  shall  find 
very  little  of  this  external  contrast.  If  Robertson  Smith 
is  right  in  his  view  of  primitive  Semitic  religion,  which  of 
course  was  the  earthly  starting-point  of  the  religion  of 
Israel,  all  sins  of  which  cognisance  was  taken  were  at  the 
first  mortal  offences,  committed  equally  against  God  and 
against  the  clan.  For  they  were  wrongs  done  to  that 
sacred  blood  which  was  common  to  the  deity,  to  the  com¬ 
munity  of  worshippers,  to  the  wrong-doer  himself,  and 
to  the  sacred  animals.  Other  wrongs,  such  as  did  not 
amount  to  mortal  sins,  hardly  came  into  the  reckoning 
at  all.  If  this  conjectural  restoration  of  the  earliest 
Semitic  religion  wins  general  acceptance,  it  will  cease  to 
be  a  remarkable  thing  that  the  Old  Testament  should 
exhibit  few  traces  of  a  distinction  between  sins  and  crimes. 
Still,  the  admission  would  have  to  be  made  that,  even  in 
early  portions  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  supposed  primi¬ 
tive  religious  ideas  show  signs  of  disintegrating.  There 
is  always  a  certain  contrast  between  sins  committed 
against  men  and  sins  against  God.  In  1  Samuel  ii  the 
sin  of  Eli’s  sons  is  first  injustice  to  the  people,  and  such 
injustice  as  makes  religious  duty  unpalatable ;  secondly,  a 
more  directly  sacrilegious  interference  with  the  customary 
law  of  the  sanctuary  at  Shiloh.  The  latter  offence  might 
seem  to  be  more  distinctively  sinful,  because  com¬ 
mitted  more  directly  against  God.  Yet  we  may  hold  it 
characteristic  of  the  Old  Testament  that,  in  Eli’s  too  feeble 
rebuke  of  his  sons,  emphasis  is  laid  upon  the  other  fault — 
upon  the  heinousness  of  wronging  and  misleading  the 
people.  The  primitive  basis  of  Semitic  religion  may  have 
done  something  to  produce  this  characteristic  temper ;  the 


i.]  PRE-PROPHETIC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL 


3 


ethical  spirit  of  Old  Testament  revelation  has  done 
more.  Throughout  its  whole  career  the  Bible  closely  con¬ 
nects  duty  to  God  with  duty  to  Israel  or  (in  later  stages  of 
revelation)  to  man.  So  also  sin  against  man  ranks  almost 
from  the  first  as  sin  also  against  God. 

A  graver  question  might  arise.  Do  the  earliest  phases 
of  thought  in  Israel  regarding  conduct  that  is  condemned 
deserve  to  be  called  doctrines  of  sin  at  all  ?  Do  they  re¬ 
cognise  guilt  in  any  true  sense  ?  Or  do  they  yield  a  quasi 
hamartiology  rather  than  a  hamartiolog}7  strictly  so- 
called  ?  Perhaps  this  question  is  verbal.  It  may  be  a 
question  regarding  the  proper  use  of  language  rather  than 
a  serious  doubt  regarding  the  facts  of  Israelite  belief. 
Still  in  any  case  it  is  well  to  repeat  the  warning  that  we 
begin  our  study  with  opinions  which  are  by  no  means 
purely  ethical. 

In  the  Old  Testament  the  earliest  doctrine  of  sin — 
whether  properly  or  only  metaphorically  so-called — is 
associated  with  certain  physical  conceptions  of  divine 
‘  holiness.’  That  is  an  important  related  conception, 
which  passes  through  a  parallel  series  of  transformations. 
At  its  starting-point  it  stands  definitely  below  ethical 
levels,  and  it  drags  down  with  it  to  the  same  inferior  levels 
the  doctrine  about  conduct  such  as  incurs  hostile  relations 
with  God — doctrine  which  when  ethically  reinterpreted 
we  shall  unhesitatingly  call  a  doctrine  of  sin.  God’s 
holiness  is  conceived  first  of  all  as  a  sort  of  physical  infec¬ 
tion.  It  is  found  in  holy  things,  persons,  and  usages,  and 
avenges  itself  automatically  upon  the  rash  intruder.  The 
classical  examples  of  this  belief  are  found  in  the  stories 
recorded  about  the  ark  after  its  capture  by  the  Philistines. 
The  ark  carries  disaster  with  it  from  city  to  city  of  the 
enemy.  More  than  that :  when  returned  to  Israel  it 
brings  pestilence  to  the  men  of  Beth-shemesh,  who  rashly 
look  inside  it.  So  far,  there  is  a  tempting  rationalistic 


4 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


interpretation  ;  viz.,  that  the  ark  actually  carried  (perhaps 
from  the  first  visited  Philistine  city,  Ashdod)  the  infection 
of  bubonic  plague.  To  that  disease  the  word  ‘  swellings  ’ 
or  ‘  tumours/  wrongly  translated  in  A.V.  ‘  emerods,’  i.e. 
‘  haemorrhoids,’  seems  to  point.  This  explanation  fails 
us,  however,  when  we  pass  to  the  story  of  Uzzah,  who, 
for  touching  the  sacred  chest  with  an  innocent  and  even 
laudable  motive,  is  struck  dead.  We  can  hardly  be  expected 
to  receive  that  narrative  as  historical.  If  conservative  Bible 
readers  are  aggrieved  at  such  a  suggestion,  they  may  be 
asked  whether  they  really  suppose  that  the  God  of  right¬ 
eousness  acted  according  to  the  half-superstitious  ideas  of 
His  early  worshippers  ?  Is  it  not  easier  to  hold  that 
some  of  the  stories  record  for  us  the  beliefs  of  Israel  rather 
than  the  actual  policy  and  behaviour  of  Israel’s  God  ? 

Be  all  that  as  it  may,  we  have  one  plain  fact  to  recognise. 
Israel  believed  in  a  material  contagion  of  holiness,  passing 
from  wdiat  was  divine  property  and  ‘  tabooing  ’  other 
things  that  came  in  contact  with  the  divine.  And  Israel 
believed  that  God’s  holiness  was  apt  to  recoil  like  an 
electric  discharge  upon  any  one  who  unwarrantably 
approached  it.  ‘  This  holy  God  ’  in  the  early  days  of 
Israel’s  religion  meant  hardly  more  than  ‘  this  formid¬ 
able  God.’ 

It  may  not  be  possible  to  draw  a  clear  line  of  separation 
between  this  first  stage  and  a  second.  Yet  there  is  surely 
a  difference  when  we  are  told  that  God,  a  personal  God, 
was  angry,  and  wreaked  His  angry  passion  upon  men. 
The  reaction  as  now  conceived  is  no  longer  purely  physical. 
It  is  psychical ;  though  truly  it  is  hardly  yet  moral,  for 
the  divine  anger  need  not  in  the  earlier  narratives  be  called 
forth  by  true  guilt.  A  striking  example  of  such  narra¬ 
tives  is  found  in  the  story  of  King  David’s  census  (2  Sam. 
xxiv.),  leading  up  to  the  sanctity  of  the  altar  at  Jerusalem, 
where  the  plague  incurred  by  the  census  was  stayed. 


i.]  PRE-PROPHETXC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL 


5 


The  significant  point  for  our  present  purpose  is  not  the 
problem  why  a  census  was  deemed  sinful.  That  also,  no 
doubt,  is  antique  belief ,  and  almost,  if  not  quite,  pre-ethical. 
But,  accepting  the  assumption  that  a  census  is  to  rank  as 
sinful,  we  are  interested  in  a  point  lying  further  back  along 
the  strange  sequence  of  supposed  causes.  First  of  all, 
God  is  angry  with  Israel.  No  reason  is  given  for  this. 
None  is  needed.  For  the  theology  of  early  Israel,  as  for 
Hyper-Calvinism  and  probably  for  many  of  the  Moslem 
schools,  God  would  cease  to  be  divine  if  He  might  not 
indulge  in  the  fullest  caprice.  Secondly,  God  (1  Chron., 
preserving  the  story  because  of  its  connection  with  the 
temple,  decorously  writes  ‘  Satan  ’)  provokes  David  to 
take  the  census  of  Israel.  Thirdly,  the  punishment  of 
this  sin — or  the  expression  of  the  wrath  it  inevitably  calls 
forth — takes  the  form  of  a  pestilence.  Fourthly,  when 
the  divine  compassion  awakes,  God  accepts  a  sacrifice  at 
a  new  site — a  site  henceforth  to  be  ever  memorable. 

Much  if  not  everything  in  this  circle  of  ideas  is  essen¬ 
tially  pagan.  Accordingly,  it  was  capable  of  being  trans¬ 
ferred  to  other  gods  besides  the  God  of  Israel.  When 
Israel  and  allied  kings  were  baffled  before  the  capital  of 
Moab,  after  the  besieged  king  had  offered  his  heir-apparent 
in  sacrifice,  there  was  ‘  great  wrath  against  Israel  ’  (2  Kings 
iii.  27).  Perhaps  this  means  pestilence.  Possibly  it 
rather  implies  a  military  disaster.  On  either  view  it  is 
more  than  likely  that  the  wrath  of  Chemosh,  not  of  Jahveh, 
was  supposed  to  work  the  mischief.  The  invaders  were 
on  the  soil  of  Chemosh,1  and  Chemosh  had  just  been  terribly 
invoked. 

It  has  been  said  above  that  one  hesitates  to  affirm  a 
definite  superiority  of  this  stage  in  belief  over  the  primi- 

1  Cf.  Judges  xi.  24.  The  difficulty  why  Chemosh  should  be  the  god  of 
Ammonites  does  not  concern  us  here.  But  we  must  note  the  full  significance 
of  such  a  passage.  It  is  little,  perhaps,  that  crude  religious  ideas  should  be 
attributed  to  Jephthah  the  Gileadite.  It  is  not  so  little  a  matter  that  the 
historian  should  record  these  ideas,  and  editors  leave  them  unexpunged. 


6 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


tive  quasi  physical  view  of  holiness,  or  of  the  ‘  sin  ’  which 
outraged  holiness  so  promptly  avenges.  There  are  passages 
where  ‘  wrath  ’  too  seems  to  be  the  name  of  a  physical 
infection,  capable  of  being  remedied  in  its  turn  by  ritual 
or  physical  checks  (cf.  further,  Num.  xvi.  46).  And  yet 
there  is  at  least  the  promise  or  potency  of  higher  advance 
when  the  anger  of  a  divine  person  is  recognised  as  formid¬ 
able  rather  than  a  perilous  quality  attaching  to  holy  things. 

At  this  same  stage  we  encounter  the  primitive  Israelite 
view  of  sacrifice.  However  we  theorise  that  rite,  it  must 
be  understood  as  at  least  including  within  it  appropriate 
remedies  for  maladjustment  of  relations  with  God.  The 
most  notable  embodiment  of  the  primitive  view  occurs 
in  the  more  antique  and  more  dignified  of  the  two  narra¬ 
tives,  which  tell  us  how  David  had  Saul  at  his  mercy,  and 
spared  him.  ‘  If  Jahveh  have  stirred  thee  up  against  me,’ 
says  David  to  the  king,  ‘  let  him  smell  an  offering  *  (1  Sam. 
xxvi.  19).  A  modern  mind  hardly  follows  this  logic.  If 
sacrifice  wras  to  put  things  right,  we  might  have  sup¬ 
posed  that  it  would  fall  to  David  to  make  the  approaches 
to  heaven.  But  no  :  the  matter  is  treated  as  one  con¬ 
cerning  King  Saul.  If  the  divine  will  or  whim  has  stung 
him  with  the  gadfly  of  madness,  he  would  willingly  be 
free  from  it.  And,  upon  the  hypothesis  in  question,  the 
remedy  is  plain.  If  it  is  God  who  is  the  originator  of  the 
trouble,  a  sacrifice  will  put  everything  right.  Here  again 
the  closing  part  of  David’s  speech  attracts  almost  greater 
attention  than  the  words  bearing  upon  sin  or  upon  sacri¬ 
fice.  ‘  If  it  be  the  children  of  men  [that  have  stirred  thee 
up  against  me]  cursed  be  they  before  Jahveh  :  for  they 
have  driven  me  out  this  day  that  I  should  not  cleave  unto 
the  inheritance  of  Jahveh,  saying.  Go,  serve  other  gods.’ 
Yet  we  need  not  pause  to  expound  these  words.  They 
contribute  nothing  to  a  doctrine  of  sin.  We  take  sufficient 
account  of  them  if  we  recognise  in  them  once  more  the 
pre-ethical  stratum  in  the  religion  of  Israel.  They  would 


x.]  PRE-PROPHETIC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL 


7 


localise  Jehovah  within  the  border  of  Israel  as  Chemosh  is 
localised  in  Moab. 

Another  stage  in  advance  towards  a  true  and  worthy 
doctrine  of  sin  (though  perhaps  not  a  very  great  advance) 
is  signalised  by  the  recognition  of  human  acts  as  calling 
forth  divine  wrath.  We  do  not  say  as  yet,  calling  it  forth 
justly.  That  is  a  further  and  distinctive  advance,  one 
that  is  nothing  short  of  revolution.  But  when  divine 
anger  ceases  to  be  conceived  as  sovereign  and  incalculable  ; 
when  the  worshipper  may  assure  himself  that  certain 
forms  of  conduct  are  unconditionally  fatal  and  others 
ascertainably  safe — he  is  so  far  in  a  happier  position.  In 
this  connection  we  have  to  take  note  of  another  of  the 
curious  ideas  embedded  in  the  primitive  Israelite  religion. 
We  have  spoken  above  of  physical  ideas  of  holiness 
corresponding  to  physical  ideas  of  sin.  We  have  spoken 
of  sacrifice  as — among  its  other  properties- — a  remedy  for 
causeless  or  utterly  mysterious  divine  wrath.  Now,  in 
dealing  with  the  subject  of  calculable  (not  necessarily  just 
or  moral)  divine  anger,  we  come  upon  the  idea  of  the  curse. 

The  only  curse  we  have  to  take  cognisance  of  is  one  in 
the  name  of  Jahveh.  Foreigners  may  curse  in  the  name 
of  their  gods,  and  men  of  worthless  anti-social  disposition 
may  work  the  black  magic  of  witchcraft  by  entering  into 
alliance  with  some  of  the  fringe  of  spirits  who  offer  their 
evil  services  to  human  clients.  But  the  true  and  loyal 
Israelite,  as  he  swears  only  by  Jahveh  (and  keeps  his  vow), 
so  when  he  curses  will  curse  by  Jahveh’ s  name ;  and  in 
cursing  as  well  as  in  blessing  or  in  vowing  he  will  mean 
what  he  says.  It  may  seem  to  us  that  a  perfectly  efficient 
celestial  executive  ought  not  to  need  a  curse  to  set  its 
activities  in  motion.  A  God  of  justice  will  right  the  cause 
of  His  servants,  perhaps  soon,  perhaps  late,  but  in  any  case 
surely.  Precisely !  a  God  of  justice  will  do  that.  But 
hitherto  the  Israelite  mind  has  not  completely  convinced 


8 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[cn. 


itself  that  God  is  just.  And  more  than  this  may  be  said 
on  behalf  of  Israel.  We  ourselves  believe  in  God’s  good¬ 
will.  Yet  we  think  it  our  duty  no  less  than  our  privilege  to 
appeal  to  that  good-will  in  prayer.  The  ruder  Israelite, 
half  convinced  of  God’s  justice,  thought  he  might  lead 
to  its  fuller  or  speedier  execution  by  uttering  curses. 
Also  he  could  in  this  way  give  grateful  utterance  to  the 
furious  anger  which  surged  up  in  his  breast.  Truly,  a 
dangerous  privilege  ;  yet  one  that  was  dearly  prized  and 
long  acted  upon. 

But  this  secondary  motive  must  not  blind  us  to  the 
leading  one.  Curses  for  the  antique  world  were  decidedly 
something  more  than  angry  ebullitions.  They  might  not 
be  infallible  in  their  working,  but  they  were  menacing  and 
risky  things.  When  the  mother  of  ‘  Micah  the  priest- 
maker  ’  met  his  confession  of  theft  with  the  words,  ‘  Blessed 
be  thou  of  Jahveh  ’  (Judges  xvii.  2),  she  was  setting  a 
subsequent  formula  of  benediction  to  counterwork  a 
previous  formula  of  commination  pronounced  upon  an 
unknown  wrongdoer,  now  tragically  discovered  in  her  own 
son.1  When  King  David  after  abdication  warns2  his 
successor  against  such  bad  characters  as  Shimei  and  Joab, 
we  may  think  the  dying  man’s  admonitions  unpleasant, 
ignoble,  perhaps  even  treacherous  ;  but  we  must  recog¬ 
nise  that  the  curses  spoken  by  Shimei  were  dangerous 
things  to  have  lying  about,  and  that  a  dishonoured  death 
would  thrust  them  down  the  original  speaker’s  throat. 
So,  too,  the  crimes  of  Joab  might  involve  bad  luck  for  the 
nation  and  the  monarchy  ;  they  might,  as  it  were,  operate 
like  an  unspoken  but  acted  curse — unless  neutralised  by 
appropriate  slaughter.3 

1  Her  ‘  vow  ’  is  possibly  an  additional  precaution  against  bad  effects  from 
the  curse.  Others  think  the  money  was  already  *  vowed  ’  to  a  sacred  use. 

2  1  Kings  ii.  The  passage  is  probably  historical ;  in  any  case  it  is 
significant  as  to  the  beliefs  of  ancient  Israel. 

3  When  Proverbs  xxvi.  2  teaches  that  ‘the  causeless  curse  lighteth  not,’ 
this  may  be  a  moral  protest ;  there  can  be  no  purely  magical  effect  of  spells 
when  no  evil  is  deserved  !  The  next  stage  is  to  abolish  spells  altogether. 


I.]  PRE-PROPHETIC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL 


9 


A  very  curious  and  significant  passage,  illustrating  not 
the  curse  formula  but  the  curse  doom,  occurs  in  the  appendix 
to  Samuel  (2  Sam.  xxi.  1-14).  Famine  has  come  upon 
the  land.  An  oracle  interprets  it  as  due  to  a  crime  com¬ 
mitted  by  Saul  against  the  Gibeonites.  Israel  had  entered 
into  solemn  alliance  with  these  aborigines,  but  4  Saul 
sought  to  slay  them  in  his  zeal  for  the  children  of  Israel 
and  Judah.’  Those  who  take  a  malignant  view  of  King 
David’s  character  suppose  that  he  had  secured  this  decision 
from  the  oracle  in  order  to  sweep  away  almost  all  the 
survivors  of  the  older  dynasty.  More  probably,  if  there 
was  any  private  malice  at  work,  it  was  that  of  Abiathar,1 
a  priest  and  keeper  of  an  oracle,  with  his  own  bitter  reasons 
for  hating  the  house  of  Saul.  Whatever  its  inner  history 
may  have  been,  the  oracle  is  accepted  as  authoritative, 
and  the  Gibeonites  are  asked  to  name  a  penalty.  First, 
they  reply  with  polite  deprecation  or  with  an  oblique  hint. 
Being  further  encouraged,  they  then  formally  demand  the 
fife  of  seven  of  Saul’s  representatives.  These  are  duly 
hanged,  and  their  remains  gibbeted  under  conditions  of 
peculiar  pathos ;  and,  the  Gibeonites  being  appeased, 
4  God  is  entreated  for  the  land.’  Neither  the  satisfaction 
of  divine  justice  alone,  nor  yet  the  satisfaction  of  Gibeonite 
hatred  alone,  will  deliver  the  land.  Both  must  be  adequately 
secured. 

On  the  other  side  it  is  fair  to  point  out  that  at  times 
formulae  of  cursing  must  have  been  used  without  any 
serious  meaning  at  all,  e.g.,  1  Samuel  xxv.  22,  4  God  do  so 
to  David.’  2  In  truth,  the  habit  of  cursing  must  have  been 
as  bad  for  reverence  as  it  was  for  self-control. 

A  very  serious  example  of  the  curse  occurs  in  the  history 
of  Jonathan,  1  Samuel  xiv.  In  this  case  the  curse  is  con¬ 
ditional.  Saul  imprecates  the  death  penalty  upon  any 

1  Budde  suggests  this  possibility. 

2  Following  LXX  and  R.V.  margin.  The  Massoretic  reading  (A.V.  and 
R.V.  text)  deliberately  avoids  so  shocking  a  phrase,  but  makes  no  sense. 


10 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


one  tasting  food  before  victory  in  the  day’s  battle  is  fully 
secured,  and  Jonathan  in  ignorance  of  the  curse  takes 
some  wild  honey.  Here,  again — as  in  innumerable  parallels 
from  the  ancient  world,  e.g.  the  story  of  (Edipus — we  must 
judge  that  ethical  conditions  are  not  satisfied.  It  is  still 
the  thing  done,  not  the  thing  deliberately  and  wrongly 
done,  that  incurs  penalty  ;  though  once  more  Hebrew 
tradition  assures  us  that  the  oracle  of  God  was  on  the  side 
of  the  imperfect  justice  of  Saul’s  administration.  In  the 
end  Jonathan  is  rescued  by  the  people,  but,  according  to 
one  commentator,1  only  through  supplying  a  substitute 
to  endure  the  death  penalty.  This  view,  if  adopted,  is 
almost  painfully  suggestive. 

In  the  last  and  highest  stage  we  meet  with  a  truly  ethical 
doctrine  of  sin,  and  a  truly  if  not  absolutely  ethical  standard. 
Calamity,  4  as  usual  in  the  ancient  world,’  implies  or  proves 
previous  transgression.  According  to  Duhm’s  deprecia¬ 
tory  view  of  the  penitential  psalms,  these  are  all  written 
in  sickness,  because  sickness  is  held  to  attest  moral  guilt. 
Another  and  a  surer  example  of  an  ethicised  yet  incom¬ 
pletely  ethicised  view  of  sin  is  found  in  the  existing  form 
of  the  second  commandment,  which  tells  us  that  God 
‘  visits  the  iniquity  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children,  upon 
the  third  and  upon  the  fourth  generations’  (Ex.  xx.  5). 
Even  in  Deuteronomy,  where  the  human  administration  of 
capital  punishment  is  hedged  in  by  a  law  of  stricter  justice,2 
the  old  view  of  God’s  sweeping  retributions  holds  its  ground. 
There  is  vengeance  for  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of 
God’s  enemies,  if  there  is  mercy  for  thousands  of  genera¬ 
tions  to  His  friends. 

Up  to  the  point  we  reach  in  this  chapter,  the  doctrine  of 
sin,  so  far  as  such  a  doctrine  exists  in  early  Israel,  con¬ 
templates  isolated  failures  on  the  part  of  a  few  souls  here 

1  Budde  ;  his  suggestion  does  not  seem  to  be  adopted  by  other  authorities. 

2  xxiv.  16.  But  ou  this  see  further  below,  p.  15. 


I.]  PRE-PROPHETIC  IDEAS  OF  SIN  IN  ISRAEL 


11 


and  there.  Individual  offence  may  be  visited  with  fatal 
penalties,  perhaps  involving  others  along  with  the  wrong¬ 
doer.  But  the  friendship  between  God  and  His  people 
is  taken  for  granted.  It  exists  by  nature.  Nothing  can 
shake  it.  Whatever  happens  to  individuals,  the  fellow¬ 
ship  between  God  and  the  nation  abides  as  long  as  either 
endures.  If  one  perishes  both  must  disappear.  It  will 
be  part  of  the  work  of  the  prophets  to  pulverise  this 
belief. 

As  a  contributory  current  of  ethical  ideas  regarding 
sin,  it  may  be  well  to  notice  other  passages — passages  where 
wrong  is  rebuked  as  a  fault  between  man  and  man.  We 
have  no  clear  evidence  that  early  Israel  penalised  vice  as 
sacrilegious.  Custom  rather  than  law  was  then  in  force, 
and  custom  could  hardly  secure  that  every  one  who 
shocked  the  conscience  of  his  neighbours  should  be  called 
to  legal  account.  Perhaps  this  made  for  ethical  advance. 
Philosophers  have  often  told  us  that,  if  the  penalties  of 
sin  were  too  striking  and  too  instantaneous,  well-doing 
might  become  automatic  and  cease  to  be  moral.  It  may 
have  been  a  good  thing  that  early  Israel  knew  of  other 
bad  and  shameful  actions — deeds  of  ‘  folly  * — besides 
those  which  were  authoritatively  taboo  in  the  name  of 
religion. 

Only  in  rare  cases  like  the  horror  at  Gibeah  1  did  general 
indignation  at  extreme  vice  express  itself  in  concerted 
punishment.  And  even  then  punishment  might  take  the 
form  of  war.  It  was  still  possible  for  the  locality,  with 
a  mistaken  tribal  patriotism,  to  shield  the  offender.  Had 
such  shameful  acts  been  recognised  in  the  theology  of  the 
age  as  mortal  sin,  we  may  be  sure  this  could  not  have 
happened. 

1  If,  as  recent  criticism  holds,  much  of  Judges  xix.  (at  any  rate)  is  to 
be  regarded  as  historical. 


12 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  II 

HAMARTIOLOGY  IN  THE  GREAT  PROPHETS  AND  UNDER 

THEIR  INFLUENCE 

It  is  time  to  turn  our  attention  towards  those  higher 
qualities  in  the  religion  of  Israel,  which  ultimately  made 
it  supreme  among  God’s  interpreters.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  nation’s  development  stands  the  vaguely  majestic 
figure  of  Moses.  We  cannot  doubt  that  he  impressed  on 
the  religion  of  his  people  the  stamp  which  abode  with  it 
to  the  end.  Yet  we  must  recognise  that  we  have  little 
certain  information  regarding  his  doctrines,  and  that  he 
could  only  implant  germinal  truths,  whose  fuller  develop¬ 
ment  was  a  task  for  later  ages.  The  next  great  name  in 
religious  history,  Samuel’s,  is  scarcely  less  nebulous.  When 
we  reach  Elijah  we  have  firmer  ground  beneath  our  feet. 
Yet  our  main  reliance  must  be  upon  books  left  us  by  the 
great  writing  prophets,  or  upon  elements  in  the  law  (in¬ 
cluding  Deuteronomy)  which  show  clear  traces  of  the  pro¬ 
phetic  spirit. 

It  would  be  possible  to  treat  Moses  differently  if  one 
could  accept  the  view  that  at  least  the  Decalogue,  or  at 
the  very  least  its  kernel,  was  primitive  and  genuine.  But 
a  little  study  of  the  evidence  forbids  such  a  conclu¬ 
sion,  if  only  because  of  the  fact  which  the  acute  mind  of 
the  poet  Goethe  first  made  prominent,  that  we  have  two 
Decalogues  in  Exodus,  one  in  chapter  xx  and  one  in 
chapter  xxxiv.  Had  the  high  ethical  generalisations 


II.] 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


13 


of  Exodus  xx  been  given  through  Moses,  it  is  unthink¬ 
able  that  the  much  less  advanced  Decalogue  of  Exodus 
xxxiv  could  ever  have  come  into  existence.  As  a 
tentative  approach  towards  better  things,  the  generalisa¬ 
tions  of  Exodus  xxxiv  are  in  their  right  place.  Some 
indeed  may  find  it  strange  that  the  unknown  prophetic 
pamphleteer,  to  whom  under  God  we  owe  Exodus  xx, 
should  have  had  his  work  accepted  through  long  ages  as  the 
very  words  of  the  King  of  heaven.  But  the  use  of  such 
terms  is  unfair.  The  unknown  human  author  was  not 
composing  freely.  He  was  endeavouring  to  state,  as 
clearly  as  might  be,  the  principles  of  Israel’s  religion  and 
revelation  ;  and  God  granted  His  servant  success.  The 
soul  of  Moses  spoke  to  the  world  through  this  unknown 
man. 

The  Decalogue  of  Exodus  xxxiv1  is  assigned  to  what 
is  by  most  critics,  no  doubt  rightly,  considered  the  oldest 
of  the  great  documents2  underlying  the  Hexateuch — J  ; 
a  document  belonging  to  the  southern  kingdom  of  Judah.3 
The  chapter  stands  in  our  texts  in  close  connection  with 
chapter  xxxii,  the  story  of  the  Golden  Calf  at  Sinai.  If 
that  connection  could  be  regarded  as  original,  this  chapter 
would  be  marked  as  a  manifesto  of  the  piety  of  Judah, 
protesting  against  ‘molten  gods’  (xxxii.  4,  xxxiv.  17), 
such  as  were  honoured  at  [Dan  ?  4  and]  Bethel.  The 
popular  piety  of  north  Israel  may  have  claimed  that 
such  worship  was  primeval,  and  possibly  that  it  had  the 
sanction,  in  Aaron,  of  the  earliest  great  priest.  J  would 
rejoin  then — yes,  indeed ;  such  worship  was  a  primeval 
sin,  and  it  received  the  bitterest  condemnation  from 
God’s  true  prophet  Moses.  Thus  the  keynote  is  already 

1  Cf.  ver.  27.  No  doubt  the  passage  has  been  much  worked  over  by 
editors.  It  is  not  easy  to  restore  the  original  in  detail. 

2  Or  collections  of  documents. 

3  Also  it  uses  for  God  the  name  Jahveh  or  Jehovah  from  an  extremely 
early  time  (Gen.  iv.  26). 

4  There  are  critical  grounds  for  doubting  whether  the  original  image  at 
Dan  (Judges  xvii  and  xviii)  was  more  than  the  simpler  ‘graven  image.' 


14 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


struck  for  one  of  two  rival  ways  of  contemplating  the 
Mosaic  period.  Elsewhere,  great  prophets  look  back 
wistfully  to  a  better  past  (Isa.  i.  26,  Jer.  ii.  2).  But 
Exodus  xxxii  anticipates  the  gloomier  view  which  rules 
the  later  literature — the  view  that  the  people  were  wicked 
from  their  earliest  days. 

Several  other  points  may  be  rapidly  mentioned  in  regard 
to  this  Decalogue.  It  addresses  the  nation  as  a  unit ; 
‘  Thou  shalt  not,’  ‘  thy  males.’  Further,  it  excludes  the 
worship  of  foreign  gods  with  all  possible  definiteness. 
Historically  this  is  the  demand  formulated  by  Elijah,  a 
northern  prophet.  Behind  it  may  lie  monolatry  rather 
than  monotheism.  There  could  hardly  be  such  tense 
hostility  to  the  worship  of  foreign  deities  if  they  were  con¬ 
sidered  non-existent  beings.  So  long  as  they  are  con¬ 
sidered  at  least  half  alive,  the  God  of  holiness  must  needs 
regard  them  with  jealousy.  After  a  period  of  contempt 
for  ‘  non-gods,’  later  ages  revive  the  primitive  attitude 
by  defining  strange  gods  as  devils.  Finally,  we  note  that 
the  duties  required  and  sins  excluded  in  detail  have  to  do 
with  religious  ritual. 

Far  more  significance  belongs  to  the  Decalogue  of  Exodus 
xx.  This  may  with  tolerable  certainty  be  referred  to 
the  companion  document  or  group  of  documents,  E — 
which  had  its  origin  in  Ephraim.1  But  we  have  the 
Decalogue  of  this  document  in  two  independent  versions 
— not  only  at  Exodus  xx  but  at  Deuteronomy  v. 
Still  further  we  can  claim — perhaps  more  confidently 2 
than  in  regard  to  the  Decalogue  of  Exodus  xxxiv — that 
an  older  original  form  lies  behind  our  present  text.  As 
between  the  versions  of  Exodus  and  Deuteronomy,  we 

1  And  which — like  the  priestly  document  P — used  only  Elohim  for  the 
name  of  God  in  the  ages  before  the  revelation  at  Sinai. 

2  Though  we  are  not  free  from  difficulties.  When  we  ask  how  the  Ten 
Words  are  to  be  numbered  and  arranged,  we  find  not  only  scholar  opposed 
to  scholar  but  Church  to  Church. 


n.] 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


15 


cannot  doubt  that  the  text  of  Deuteronomy  v  is  the  later, 
because 1  Deuteronomy  misunderstands  the  archaism  of 
‘  house  ’  for  household,  and  so  places  the  4  wife  ’  before 
the  house  in  our  tenth  commandment.  As  a  final  argu¬ 
ment  we  might  add  that  the  Shema  of  Deuteronomy  vi 
(4,  5)  is  even  nobler  than  the  Decalogue  of  Exodus  xx  (or 
of  Deut.  v),  inasmuch  as  it  urges  not  mere  moral  negations 
but  the  positive  duty  of  love  to  God.  That  was  the  dis¬ 
tinctive  message  of  Deuteronomic  piety. 

The  pattern  for  each  of  the  original  Ten  Words  is 
furnished  by  short  commandments  like  our  sixth,  seventh, 
eighth,  and  ninth,  or  like  some  of  the  verses  in  Exodus 
xxxiv.  Yet  perhaps  there  was  no  great  interval  in  time 
between  the  codification  of  the  Decalogue  of  Exodus  xx 
and  its  expansion  by  means  of  homiletical  insertions. 
There  is  reason  to  infer  that  most  of  these  additions  were 
earlier  than  Deuteronomy,  and  too  well  accredited  for 
the  Deuteronomist  to  challenge  them.  This  may  explain 
his  agreement  both  with  Exodus  xx  and  Exodus  xxxiv 
(ver.  9)  as  to  the  inheritance  of  punishment  by  three  and 
even  four  generations.  Early  piety  must  have  regarded  such 
cruel  severity  as  necessary  to  God’s  majesty.  Even  if  we 
should  cut  out  the  higher  teaching  of  Deuteronomy  xxiv.  16, 
as  suspiciously  resembling  Jeremiah  xxxi.  30  and  not  per¬ 
haps  completely  at  home  in  its  context,  still  we  must  grant 
that  Deuteronomy  breathes  the  same  advancing  moral  spirit 
which  was  to  find  that  precise  expression  2  very  slightly 
later.  In  contrast  with  this,  the  expanded  second  com¬ 
mandment  breathes  the  spirit  of  a  ruder  age. 

The  loftier  Decalogue  of  Exodus  xx  continues  to 
exhibit  many  resemblances  to  the  less  advanced  summary 
of  Exodus  xxxiv.  It  addresses  the  nation ;  although 
the  commandments  of  the  Second  Table  must  be  held 
to  contemplate  individuals.  It  is  mainly  negative,  ro- 

1  Apart  from  considerations  of  less  importance. 

8  Cf.  not  only  Jer.  xxxi  but  Ezek.  xviii. 


16 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


quiring  virtues  by  prohibiting  sins.  Indeed,  it  is  more 
negative  than  its  predecessor.  It  begins  with  the  exclu¬ 
sion  of  foreign  gods.  But 1  it  excludes  in  the  second 
commandment  not  merely  the  new-fangled  idolatry  that 
made  use  of  molten  images,  but  all  images  for  religious 
worship  of  whatever  kind.  And  here  we  find  one  further 
proof  that  the  Decalogue  belongs  to  a  somewhat  late  stage 
in  Israel’s  history.  Gideon’s  ephod  (perhaps  the  ephod 
generally  of  early  times)  was  almost  undoubtedly  an  image ; 
and  we  may  be  sure  that  for  Gideon’s  age  its  use  was  no 
‘  whorish  ’  abuse,  but  simply  a  refined  elegance,  and  a 
tribute  to  the  nation’s  God.  But  things  have  changed 
by  the  time  Exodus  xx  is  formulated.  Things  have  gone 
beyond  the  standpoint  even  of  J.  The  moral  protest  of  the 
south  seems  to  echo  back  from  the  north  in  widened  and 
strengthened  form.  And  the  banning  of  all  kinds  of 
images  without  exception  has  more  of  definite  moral 
principle  in  it  than  a  conservatism  which  dislikes  the 
molten  image  as  an  innovation  while  finding  the  familiar 
graven  image  inoffensive. 

The  Sabbath  stands  in  both  Decalogues ;  circumcision 
does  not  appear  in  either.  Later,  when  exile  made  it 
impossible  to  carry  out  fully  the  requirements  of  a  ritual 
law,  these  two  institutions  gained  importance  as  distinc¬ 
tive  Jewish  badges.  May  one  conjecture  that  the  Sabbath 
had  a  value  for  the  prophets,2  which  led  to  its  retaining 
its  place  in  Exodus  xx  ?  It  is  the  one  piece  of  external 
religion  in  that  Decalogue,  as  contrasted  with  a  long  fist 
of  ritual  requirements  and  prohibitions  at  Exodus  xxxiv. 
The  oath  or  the  vow — to  be  faithfully  performed  to 
Jehovah’s  name — and  the  command  to  honour  parents, 
are  new  in  Exodus  xx. 

But  the  chief  glory  of  the  Decalogue  is  its  second  half. 
In  contrast  with  Exodus  xxxiv  Exodus  xx  includes  duty 
to  man  (primarily,  to  the  fellow  Israelite)  as  part  of  God’s 

l  At  least  in  the  form  in  which  we  have  it.  2  See  2  Kings  iv.  23. 


n.] 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


17 


supreme  law,  and  so  virtually  as  part  of  duty  to  God.  It  has 
been  remarked  that  the  order  of  the  commandments  six  to 
ten  is  ruled  by  a  plain  principle.  They  forbid,  not  indeed 
greater  and  then  steadily  lesser  sins — that  would  involve 
a  very  perilous  casuistry — but  greater  and  then  steadily 
lessening  injuries  to  one’s  neighbour.  One  interesting 
result  of  this  analysis  is  to  vindicate  the  spiritual  sense  of 
the  tenth  commandment.  Such  teaching  is  surprising 
enough,  in  a  document  still  comparatively  early.  But 
what  else  can  the  meaning  be  ?  Three  injuries  in  act  have 
been  forbidden,  and  one  in  word  ;  all  that  can  be  added 
further  is  prohibition  of  the  injurious  thought.1 

In  the  combination  of  the  two  sets  of  duties,  the  Decalogue 
— the  greater  Decalogue — manifests  those  qualities  which 
gave  historic  greatness  to  the  prophets’  teaching.  It 
speaks  for  ethical  monotheism.  Even  if  the  language  is 
that  of  monolatry,  the  meaning  goes  deeper.  There  is  a 
great  deal  still  to  be  learned  before  moral  requirement  is 
revealed  in  its  full  loftiness.  Yet  a  beginning  has  been 
made.  Formally,  it  may  be  correct  to  say  that  five  com¬ 
mandments  rule  out  sins,  against  God  or  against  parents, 
while  five  others  rule  out  wrongs  against  one’s  fellows. 
But,  in  the  very  act  of  making  this  distinction,  the  Deca¬ 
logue  cancels  it.  Both  tables  come  from  God.  Wrong 
itself  is  sinful. 

Superior  to  the  brief  code  of  prophetic  ideals  contained 
in  Exodus  xx — superior  even  to  the  Shema — is  the  deeply 
earnest  moral  teaching  given  by  those  great  prophets 
whose  books  have  come  to  us  down  the  stream  of  time. 
These  books  exhibit  personal  religion  as  an  essential  part 
of  the  prophet’s  vocation.  (1)  The  prophet  was  God’s  inti¬ 
mate  friend.  Knowledge  of  God’s  purpose  for  the  nation 

1  The  third  and  ninth  commandments  do  not  really  overlap.  Among  the 
Hebrews  an  accused  or  suspected  person  might  be  put  upon  oath,  to  purge 
or  to  incriminate  himself.  But  a  third  person  offering  testimony  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  bound  by  oaths. 


B 


18 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


came  to  him  perhaps  in  a  vision,  certainly  as  an  intuitive 
subconscious  assurance  ;  not  reasoned  out  but  irresistibly 
borne  in  upon  his  mind.  (2)  The  prophet  teaches  ethical 
monotheism,  and  he  reads  the  ethical  values  negatively 
as  well  as  positively.  He  has  a  voice  of  thunder  in  which 
to  denounce  the  evil  of  sin  ;  this  element  in  his  outfit 
is  forgotten  by  many  modernists,  who  compliment  and 
patronise  long  dead  prophets  of  God,  but  regard  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  sin  with  contempt.  The  tone  of  moral  indigna¬ 
tion  in  Amos  or  Micah  is  unmistakable  ;  we  shall  meet 
this  mark  of  the  prophetic  spirit  again  far  from  ancient 
Israel,  in  Bishop  Butler.  (3)  The  sin  rebuked,  the  duty 
mainly  insisted  on,  is  the  nation’s.  That  singular  com¬ 
posite  moral  personality  is  everything,  or  all  but  every¬ 
thing,  to  these  great  moralists.  Very  slowly  and  with 
difficulty  does  it  disintegrate.  (4)  The  sin  of  the  nation 
is  sharply  bitten  into  the  prophetic  conscience  by  the 
approach  of  the  Assyrian  power.  A  highly  antique 
though  truly  not  primitive  way  of  thinking,  according 
to  which  calamity  proves  moral  guilt,  is  among  the  implied 
subconscious  axioms  of  prophetic  teaching.  In  another 
way  the  whole  moral  world  was  simplified  or  unified  by  the 
cruel  Assyrian  supremacy.  This  helped  towards  conscious 
monotheism.  One  great  and  terrible  danger  called  for 
faith  in  one  still  greater  and  more  terrible  power — in  one 
God.  (5)  The  prophets  charge  the  nation  with  having 
incurred  deliberate  guilt.  The  people  are  not  merely 
weaklings  ;  they  are  rebels  (Isa.  i.  2).  The  tendency  of 
recent  criticism  is  to  find  hardly  anything  else  in  the 
prophets  besides  this  heavy  charge.  Such  1  vigour  and 
rigour  ’  always  mean  exaggeration.  If  the  prophets  had 
possessed  no  messages  of  hope,  they  could  not  have  been 
the  interpreters  of  God  or  the  forerunners  of  Christ. 
Still  there  is  much  truth  entangled  among  the  exaggera¬ 
tions  of  recent  criticism.  The  prophetic  hamartiology, 
like  many  a  later  version  of  the  doctrine,  finds  those  whom 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


19 


n.] 

it  addresses  hopelessly  mined — tried  already,  and  con¬ 
demned,  and  in  expectation  of  capital  punishment.  Being 
a  nation,  Israel  has  to  die  out  from  the  list  of  nations  in 
exile.  That  is  her  capital  punishment.  (6)  This  more 
distinctively  theological  judgment,  based  on  the  political 
facts  of  the  age,  is  corroborated  by  more  definitely  moral 
judgments,  such  as  the  prophets  furnish  in  great  detail. 
Notably  the  sin  of  the  godless  rich  against  the  poor  is 
emphasised,  hardly  less  by  a  great  gentleman  like  Isaiah 
of  Jerusalem  than  by  peasant  prophets  such  as  Amos  and 
Micah.  Amos,  the  very  first  representative  of  written 
prophecy,  brands  with  similar  condemnation  other  sins 
against  humanity.  As  the  nation  is  the  subject  of  guilt, 
so  in  at  least  one  passage 1  the  nation  appears  as  the 
victim  of  wicked  Israelite  oppressors.  Nor  are  sins  of 
drunkenness  and  of  sexual  vice  ever  long  out  of  sight. 

Amos  opens  his  prophecies  with  a  survey  of  some  seven 
nations,2  including  and  culminating  in  Israel.  A  Judean 
by  race,  he  was  called  by  his  inspiration  to  work  in  the 
larger  kingdom  of  the  north.  The  sins  he  here  denounces 
may  be  summed  up  as  (1)  sins  of  inhumanity  committed 
by  non-Israelite  nations  against  Israel ;  (2)  similar  sins 
committed  by  non-Israelites  against  non-Israelites  ;  (3) 
sins  of  inhumanity  committed  by  Israel.  This  sequence 
and  climax  justify  Amos’s  grim  interpretation  of  Israel’s 
special  prerogatives  :  ‘You  only  have  I  known  of  all  the 
families  of  the  earth  ;  therefore  I  will  visit  upon  you  all 
your  iniquities  ’  (iii.  2).  It  is  a  superficial  judgment  surely 
to  call  the  attitude  of  such  a  prophet  ‘  narrow  particu¬ 
larism.’  In  the  eyes  of  this  prophet,  God’s  care  watches 
over  every  race  (ix.  7).  Through  the  dialect  of  particu¬ 
larism  we  can  catch  the  thoughts  of  universalism.  If 
Amos  is  a  particularist,  God  send  us  others  like  him ! 

1  ‘  What  mean  ye  that  ye  crush  my  people ,  and  grind  the  faces  of  the 
poor? ’  (Isa.  iii.  15). 

*  Critical  doubts  regarding  some  details  do  not  affect  ns. 


20 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


And  yet  again,  we  dare  not  deny  the  peculiarity  of  the 
relation  between  God  and  Israel.  All  that  is  most  sacred 
in  Christianity  rests  upon  the  acknowledgment  that  God 
worked  for  all  mankind  first  through  the  special  agency  of 
Israel  then  through  the  sole  mediation  of  Christ. 

One  thing  more  must  be  noted  in  regard  to  Amos.  The 
denunciation  of  sacrificial  worship 1  seems  more  unmis¬ 
takable  and  more  absolute  than  that  of  later  prophets. 
He  insists  that  sacrificial  worship  of  Jahveh  formed  no 
part  of  the  piety  of  Israel  in  the  wilderness.  Laxities  in 
sacrificing  are  not  to  rank  as  sins,  nor  sacrificial  punctilios 
as  virtues.  Such  a  theory  addresses  an  almost  impos¬ 
sible  demand  to  an  ancient  people.  It  asks  for  a  religion 
which  consists  in  dutiful  conduct  towards  the  national 
God — in  that  and  nothing  else.  May  one  say  that  such 
a  religion  is  not  really  fitted  to  cope  with  the  problem 
of  sin  ?  Striking  as  his  denunciations  are,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  Amos  has  measured  sin  to  its  depths. 

Hosea  leads  the  way  towards  describing  a  prophet’s 
initial  vision,  such  as  consecrates  the  whole  life  of  Isaiah 
Jeremiah  or  Ezekiel,  and  according  to  tradition  of  Moses. 
But  the  experience  which  Hosea  puts  on  record  is  strangely 
different.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  his  opening 
chapters  are  history  used  as  parable,  the  tragic  unfaith¬ 
fulness  of  his  wife  becoming  to  him  a  parable  of  Israel’s 
disloyalty  to  the  covenant  God.  But  more  than  that ; 
his  own  love  becomes  to  Hosea  a  parable  of  God’s  love. 
Those  sex  relationships  which  had  played  so  gross  a 
part  in  paganism  are  now  reclaimed  and  carried  up, 
under  the  teaching  of  cruel  grief,  into  the  loftiest  regions. 
Hosea  is  the  first  great  preacher  to  announce  that  God  is 
love.2  The  counterpart  of  this  truth,  Thou  shalt  love 
Jahveh  thy  God ,  is  perhaps  less  verbally  manifest  in 

1  Though  the  text  is  difficult  and  corrupt. 

2  Deuteronomy,  according  to  the  critical  dating,  learns  this  from  Hosea. 


II.] 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


21 


Hosea’s  book.  But  the  thought  is  there,  and  even  the 
word  1  has  been  employed  by  Principal  G.  A.  Smith  in 
rendering  Hosea’s  hesedh.  That  term,  usually  rendered 
‘  mercy,’  is  one  more  symptom  of  the  deep  inwardness  of 
Hosea’s  piety. 

Not  less  inward  is  Hosea’s  view  of  sin.  It  would  not 
be  correct  to  say  that  he  shares  the  moral  indignation  of 
robust  spirits  like  Amos  and  Micah.  What  he  reveals  is 
absolute  horror  at  the  vision  of  evil.  He  sees  it  as  per¬ 
petrated  not  merely  in  defiance  of  a  righteous  will  but  in 
contempt  of  love.  And  yet  because  it  is  love  that  suffers, 
love  cannot  accept  defeat.  Perhaps  radical  criticism  is 
right  when  it  tells  us  that  Amos  has  no  message  of  mercy. 
In  his  book,  possibly,  the  passages  of  comfort  are  indeed 
later  glosses.  But  such  a  conclusion  is  unthinkable  in 
regard  to  Hosea.  His  most  characteristic  expression  is 
How  can  1  give  thee  up  ?  (xi.  8).  Precisely  when  the  horror 
of  sin  is  seen,  pardon  and  rescue  become  inevitable,  and 
gospel  tidings  of  grace  begin  to  be  heard.2 

There  is  full  and  striking  teaching  on  the  subject  of 
sin  in  the  record  of  Isaiah’s  3  call  (chap,  vi),  the  most 
eloquent  and  not  the  least  profound  of  all  such  passages. 
In  a  vision  Isaiah  sees  the  temple  occupied  at  one  end 
by  a  lofty  throne  upon  which  God  Himself  sits,  with 
mysterious  beings  called  Seraphim  singing  His  praise, 
and  is  smitten  with  terror  and  shame.  He  is  undone,  for 
he  has  seen  God  ;  and,  in  contrast  to  the  holy  ministers 
of  God’s  sanctuary,  he  is  of  unclean  lips  like  all  his  guilty 
nation.  But  a  seraph  glides  from  his  place,  and  with  the 
sacred  tongs  lifts  a  red-hot  coal  from  the  altar-hearth. 
This  touches  the  prophet’s  lips.  With  the  inconsequence 
of  a  dream,  nothing  is  intimated  in  regard  to  pain  from 

1  *  Leal  love.  ’ 

2  Criticism  holds  that  Hosea’s  attack  on  the  ‘calf’  images,  as  he  con¬ 
temptuously  terms  them,  is  an  innovation  of  great  historical  importance. 

3  Micah  is  omitted  from  lack  of  space. 


22 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


such  an  experience.  But  it  is  accompanied  by  the  assur¬ 
ance  of  forgiveness,  and  Isaiah  is  now  pure  enough  to  offer 
himself  as  God’s  servant  and  spokesman.1 

Very  remarkable  here  is  the  immediate  sense  of  sin  in 
the  Divine  presence,  an  experience  which  recurs  at 
Job  xlii,  and  again  at  Luke  v.  One  is  further  struck  by 
the  sense  of  kinship  between  the  guilty  prophet  and  the 
guilty  people.  It  is  true  we  are  not  told  that  Isaiah  is  in 
solidarity  with  them,  but  only  that  the  background  of 
their  impure  speech  aggravates  the  impurity  of  which 
he  becomes  conscious  in  himself.  We  must  wait  perhaps 
for  the  life  of  Jesus  before  we  have  any  repetition  of  this 
experience.2  In  the  later  Old  Testament  the  righteous  few 
isolate  themselves  emphatically  from  the  guilty  many. 
When  in  Christ  we  find  perfect  sinlessness,  we  also  find 
perfect  fellowship  with  the  lost.  Again,  the  emphasis 
on  pollution  and  on  purification  is  remarkable  ;  but  more 
must  be  said  of  this  w'hen  we  speak  of  the  Law. 

If  we  judged  Isaiah  purely  by  his  initial  vision,  we  should 
rank  him  among  the  prophets  of  unrelieved  despair. 
Fortunately  there  remains  one  piece  of  contrary  evidence 
which  no  ingenuity  can  abolish,  the  name  of  Isaiah’s  son 
Shear- Jashub,  Remnant- shall-return.  The  visible  begin¬ 
nings  of  a  gospel  in  Hosea  are  not  trampled  out  by  his 
great  successor,  but  kindle  into  clearer  flame.  And  we  are 
incidentally  warned  not  to  assume  that  one  vision  or  one 
oracle  imposes  limits  on  a  prophet,  beyond  which  he 
cannot  stray.  There  seems  no  reason  to  doubt  that  this 
same  Isaiah  became  the  prophet  of  the  inviolability  of 
Zion,  and  of  the  great  coming  king,  known  to  later  days  3 
as  ‘  the  ’  Messiah.  We  must  not  infer  that  the  southern 
kingdom  earned  a  more  lenient  sentence  than  the  northern, 
but  rather  that  Isaiah  was  led  to  give  clearer  utterance 

1  It  appears  probable  that  the  message  of  hope,  half  hinted  at  the  close 
of  this  chapter,  is  a  later  intrusion. 

2  Unless  Isa.  liii  reflects  an  earlier  experience  in  the  same  kind. 

3  Adopting  or  adapting  the  language  of  Ps.  ii.  2. 


II.] 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


23 


than  any  prophet  before  him  to  the  hope  that  is  implied 
in  the  very  name  of  God. 

The  king  of  Judah  during  Isaiah’s  best  days  was  Heze- 
kiah.  It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  great  prophet 
gained  no  small  influence  over  his  royal  master,  particularly 
after  the  deliverance  of  Jerusalem  ;  which,  if  less  dramatic 
than  the  unlearned  Bible-reader  might  suppose,  was  extra¬ 
ordinarily  important  for  the  future  of  the  higher  faith 
in  God.  It  gave  encouragement  and  it  allowed  a 
breathing-space.  The  histories  tell  us  of  reform  carried 
out  by  Hezekiah  upon  Deuteronomic  lines.  This  may  be 
mainly  an  antedating  of  Josiah’s  work.  When  we  look 
into  the  details  of  Josiah’s  reform,  we  cannot  think  that 
he  was  merely  clearing  away  corruptions  due  to  the  pagan 
reaction  under  Manasseh.  Many  of  the  abuses  described 
must  have  been  age-long.  How  could  there  have  been 
need  or  room  for  Josiah’s  action  if  Hezekiah  had  done 
the  work  already  ?  Nevertheless,  one  instalment  of  icono- 
clasm  ascribed  to  Hezekiah  must  be  historical.  He 
destroyed  the  brazen  serpent  c  which  Moses  made  ’ — the 
original  narrative  may  have  been  less  edifying  than  what 
we  now  read  at  Numbers  xxi — for  4  unto  those  days  the 
children  of  Israel  did  burn  incense  to  it  ’  (2  Kings  xviii.  4). 

A  much  fuller  programme  of  iconoclasm  was  contained 
in  Deuteronomy,  and  acted  on  by  Josiah.  Thus  we  are 
bound  to  date  Deuteronomy  after  the  days  of  good  King 
Hezekiah,  who — when  we  examine  the  facts  closely — 
does  not  seem  to  have  known  of  its  requirements,  and 
before  Josiah’s  reign.  The  last  point  is  supported  by  one 
special  argument.  The  provisions  of  Deuteronomy  in 
regard  to  country  priests  were  not  in  the  interests  of  the 
priesthood  at  Jerusalem,  who  brought  the  book  to  light. 
There  is  the  less  ground  for  insinuating  that  the  ‘  finding  ’ 
of  the  book  was  a  pre-arranged  transaction.  It  might 


24 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


well  be,  that,  amid  the  confusions  of  Manasseh’s  reign,  the 
manifesto  of  the  reforming  party  was  put  in  shape,  but, 
upon  the  death  or  the  exile  of  its  leaders,  was  temporarily 
lost. 

Deuteronomy  is  of  considerable  importance  in  the 
development  of  the  doctrine  of  sin.  It  begins,  or  begins 
upon  the  great  scale,  the  policy  which  ruled  in  the  post¬ 
exile  period.  Sacrifice  is  not  to  be  depreciated  or  ignored 
any  longer.  Sacrifice  is  to  be  regulated.  Religion  is  not 
to  be  left  upon  the  breathless  heights,  but  is  to  be  brought 
nearer  the  levels  of  common  life.  If  one  sanctuary  alone 
is  to  be  tolerated — that  one  sanctuary  which  a  recent  invader 
proved  unable  to  insult — ritual  may  henceforth  be  in 
alliance  with  the  claims  of  a  spiritual  morality.  On  the 
other  hand  it  follows  inevitably  that  spiritual  and  cere¬ 
monial  duties  stand  henceforth  upon  the  same  footing. 
Both  are  parts  of  the  code. 

In  another  way,  too,  Deuteronomy  is  of  significance  for 
our  doctrine.  It  fills  a  gap  in  the  previous  prophetic 
denunciations.  How  is  it  possible  to  hold  that  Israel  as 
a  nation  has  wilfully  rebelled  against  God,  or  declined  from 
higher  things  ?  It  may  still  be  easy  for  the  thought  of 
that  age  to  assume  that  what  the  fathers  had  within  their 
reach  suffices  to  condemn  the  faults  of  the  children.  But 
had  the  fathers  any  real  knowledge  of  those  lofty  ideals  in 
whose  light  the  prophets  condemn  later  generations  ? 
If  Deuteronomy  is  read  as  a  piece  of  literal  history,  the 
fathers  had  this  light,  and  the  rebels  are  rebels  indeed. 
The  Decalogue,  the  Shema,  the  manifold  detailed  require¬ 
ment  of  love  to  God — it  is  all  in  Deuteronomy.  Well 
might  King  Josiah  be  terrified  (2  Kings  xxii.  11)  by  so 
exact  a  description  of  the  faults  of  his  people  and  age. 
Christian  theology  follows  the  lead  of  Deuteronomy,  or 
betters  its  example,  when  it  teaches  that  the  first  father 
of  the  whole  human  race  had  his  probation  in  Eden,  and 
that  his  Fall  avails  to  condemn  the  whole  of  his  posterity. 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


25 


n.] 

But  when  Christianity  arose,  the  sense  of  racial  unity  had 
grown  weaker,  while  that  of  individual  responsibility  had 
strengthened.  Hence  theology  has  been  tormented  by 
doubts  regarding  the  grounds  of  imputation.  No  such 
doubts  existed  in  those  far-off  days  of  which  we  are  speaking. 

There  are  affinities  both  of  language  and  of  thought 
between  Deuteronomy  and  the  great  prophet  whom  we 
have  next  to  mention — Jeremiah.  More  than  this  may 
be  said.  It  is  at  least  possible  that  the  prophet  (Jer.  xi) 
made  a  tour  through  the  country  1  in  the  interests  of  the 
words  of  that  ‘  covenant.5  But,  if  our  prophet  ever  looked 
with  hope  to  such  lines  of  reform,  he  must  soon  have 
changed  his  mind.  With  all  its  threatenings,  Deuteronomy 
is  a  very  buoyant  book.  It  is  no  mere  preacher  of  sin  or 
of  judgment,  like  certain  prophets.  It  sets  before  the 
people  life  as  well  as  death.  Nor  is  this  simply  an  accident, 
due  to  the  dramatic  transference  of  the  great  discourse  to 
the  early  days  of  the  nation’s  innocence.  The  buoyancy 
of  the  book  reveals  the  temper  of  mind  in  which  the  un¬ 
known  reformers,  working  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  Moses, 
shaped  their  appeal.  They  hoped  to  regenerate  Israel.  And 
they  achieved  something ;  they  introduced  a  temporary 
reform,  and  helped  once  more  to  secure  a  breathing-space 
for  the  little  circle  of  God’s  true  friends.2 *  Yet  in  the  end 
they  seem  to  have  inspired  King  Josiah  with  superstitious 
confidence  in  the  value  of  external  reforms.  God  must  be 
on  his  side  now,  to  defend  the  sacred  soil  against  heathen 
trespassers  !  But,  as  so  often,  providence  took  the  side 


1  This  view  was  first  made  familiar  in  England,  if  not  for  the  first  time 
suggested,  by  Dr.  Cheyne  (Commentary,  1883 ;  Jeremiah,  His  Life  and 
Times,  1888);  A.  B.  Davidson  ( Theolog .  Review  and  Free  Church  Colleges 
Quarterly )  referred  to  the  suggestion  in  a  tone  almost  of  impatience. 
Recently  Prof.  Peake  has  mentioned  it  with  little  sympathy  in  his  primer 
on  The  Religion  of  Israel.  But  his  commentary  (in  the  Century  Bible) 
argues  in  its  favour. 

2  Compare  at  an  earlier  date  Isa.  viii.  16 — if  that  is  the  meaning  of  the 

verse. 


26  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

of  the  big  battalions.  Egypt  was  victor;  Josiah  lost  his 
life ;  and  the  reform  party  seemed  to  collapse. 

In  contrast  with  the  buoyancy  of  Deuteronomy — dashed 
with  fears,  yet  ever  again  emerging  into  the  sunshine  of 
hope — Jeremiah  is  even  painfully  depressing.  He  has 
come  to  be  more  afraid  of  sin.  The  heart  is  deceitful  above 
all  things ,  and  desperately  sick  (xvii.  9).  It  is  true  that 
he  announces  no  dogma  of  original  sin.  No  fate,  no 
natural  necessity,  forbids  the  nation  to  please  God.  But 
there  is  the  second  nature  of  engrained  national  habit 
(xiii.  23). 

It  was  granted  to  Jeremiah  to  keep  faith  and  hope  alive 
in  a  few,  and  to  wait  for  better  days.  He  recognised  God’s 
will  in  the  triumph  of  Babylon  and  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem.  Israel  the  nation  might  disappear.  The 
pious  ‘  remnant  ’  of  whom  Isaiah  had  spoken  might  con¬ 
centrate  itself  into  hardly  more  than  the  single  person¬ 
ality  of  Jeremiah.  But  personal  religion,  which  had  lain 
at  the  heart  of  the  experience  of  all  true  prophets,  was 
equal  to  this  new  and  terrible  demand.  And  so  Jeremiah 
was  able  to  record  the  prediction  of  a  future  better  time, 
when  God  Himself  would  write  His  laws  on  the  people’s 
hearts,1  and  *  remember  sin  no  more.’ 

Ezekiel 2  is  the  prophet  of  God’s  absoluteness.  The 
effects  of  this  belief  coincide  with  those  of  his  very  dark 
doctrine  of  Israel’s  sin.  (1)  God’s  majesty  requires  the 
punishment  of  Israel  in  exile.  (2)  Eventually  it  will  require 
— all  unjustified  by  any  merit  in  Israel — restoration  for 
Israel  and  punishment  for  the  heathen.  (3)  From  the 
heathen  nearer  at  hand,  by  whom  Israel  had  at  first  been 

1  Dr.  Peake  regards  the  ‘New  Covenant ’  passage  in  chap,  xxxi  as 
Jeremiah’s  own.  And  surely  it  is  too  glorious  a  promise  to  be  detached 
from  the  great  prophet  and  assigned  to  some  representative  of  the  unknown 
epigoni. 

2  Habakkuk  appears  to  be  a  prophet  of  Israel’s  wrongs  rather  than  of 
Israel’s  faults. 


PROPHETIC  HAMARTIOLOGY 


27 


n.] 

deservedly  chastened  but  afterwards  insufferably  wronged, 
punishment  must  extend  to  the  furthest-off  nations. 
They,  too,  must  feel  the  strong  arm  of  Israel’s  God.  There¬ 
after,  God  may  be  all  in  all. 

Along  with  this  dogmatic  emphasis  on  the  evil  of  sin, 
we  ought  to  notice  the  tenderness  of  Ezekiel’s  promises. 
There  will  be  cleansing  (xxxvi.  25),  and  a  gift  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  create,  by  God’s  own  agency,  the  new  personal 
religion  of  which  J eremiah  (xxxi)  had  more  briefly  spoken. 
In  the  immediate  future  more  influence  is  exercised  by 
Ezekiel’s  scheme  for  land  and  temple  (xl-xlviii).  Plainly, 
this  vision  is  one  more  stage  towards  that  Priestly  Code 
which  dominates  the  post-exile  period.  Yet  this  harden¬ 
ing  of  outward  forms  was  not  incompatible  with  a  real 
growth  in  spiritual  life.  The  age  of  the  Psalter — a  book 
which  echoes  again  and  again  so  much  of  Jeremiah’s  gloom, 
but  so  much  too  of  his  intimate  friendship  with  God — was 
the  same  age  in  which  saintly  men  were  zealous  for  the 
law  and  began  to  make  a  hedge  about  it. 

In  the  Second  Isaiah,  the  prophet  of  the  Babylonian 
exile,  Israel  tends  to  appear  as  the  wronged  rather  than 
the  guilty  one.  Very  deep  chords  are  struck  in  the  Servant 
passages,  particularly — and  this  holds  especially  of  sin — 
in  the  hymn  of  the  suffering  Servant,  lii-liii.  It  is  hard 
to  explain  under  what  conditions  of  the  time,  or  with  what 
proximate  reference,  these  words  can  first  have  been 
spoken.  They  do  not  present  themselves  as  a  simple 
foreshadowing  of  sorrows  yet  to  come  ;  if  they  did,  they 
might  have  been  not  so  much  a  contribution  to  Messianic 
hope  as  a  reconstruction  of  that  hope  from  a  more  spiritual 
point  of  view.  But  the  words  seem  to  expound  a  con¬ 
temporary  moral  event.  Some  wrould  refer  them  to  an 
individual  sufferer,  treated  with  the  bold  idealisation  of 
poetry  ;  perhaps  Jeremiah  ;  perhaps  a  king  or  prince  like 
Zerubbabel  or  like  Jehoiachin.  Recent  study  revives  an 


28 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


old  Jewish  solution.  The  sufferer  is  none  other  than  Israel, 
that  relatively  righteous  nation,  which  endures  wrong  at 
the  hands  of  the  heathen  in  order  that  the  heathen  may 
benefit.  To  a  theologian — may  we  not  say  to  a  Christian  ? 
— this  could  not  be  a  welcome  solution.  Isaiah  xl  tells 
us  that  Israel  has  received  ‘  double  for  all  her  sins.’  Be  it 
so  ;  yet  Israel  had  been  guilty.  Does  excess  of  punish¬ 
ment  turn  the  criminal  into  a  martyr  ?  What  glory  is 
it  if,  when  we  be  buffeted  for  our  faults,  we  take  it 
patiently  ?  If  recent  study  is  in  the  right,  God  led  His 
people  on  from  very  unsatisfactory  premises  to  very  deep 
spiritual  insights.  They  reached  a  doctrine  of  vicarious 
suffering  on  behalf  of  sinners,  which  the  Old  Testament 
never  matches  and  the  New  Testament  rarely  quotes — all 
the  more  startling  inasmuch  as  the  suffering,  if  not  the  vicari¬ 
ousness,  is  reflected  in  several  psalms.  It  seems  as  if  in 
Psalm  xxii  we  listened  to  the  very  voice,  almost  to  the  heart¬ 
beat,  of  the  sufferer  of  Isaiah  liii.  There  is  a  mystery  here 
upon  which,  so  far  as  the  present  writer  can  judge,  historical 
and  critical  study  has  as  yet  thrown  hardly  any  light. 

Yet  one  thing  is  plain,  and  its  importance  could  not  be 
exaggerated.  While  the  first  work  of  the  great  prophets 
is  to  be  preachers  of  righteousness  and  to  denounce  sin, 
they  do  not  finish  their  task  until  they  have  learned 
and  taught  that  the  condition  of  Israel  as  it  stands  is 
hopeless,  and  that  a  better  relation  with  God  can  only 
begin  in  a  divine  largesse  of  forgiveness. 


in.] 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


29 


CHAPTER  III 

IN  THE  PRIESTLY  CODE  AND  THE  LATER  OLD 
TESTAMENT  BOOKS 

Between  the  period  chiefly  studied  in  our  last  chapter 
and  the  post-exile  law  more  than  one  great  factor  inter¬ 
venes.  First  we  should  mention  the  reaction  in  the  age 
of  Manasseh  towards  heathenism  of  a  gloomy  type,  with  a 
development  or  revival  of  terrible  rites.  While  the  pro¬ 
phetic  party  was  in  the  strongest  possible  antagonism  to 
the  new  heathenism,  yet  we  ought  to  allow  for  uncon¬ 
scious  influences  emerging  from  the  hated  rival  and  diffusing 
gloom.  But  more  important  than  anything  in  Manasseh’ s 
age  was  the  tremendous  fact  of  exile.  The  threatenings 
of  the  prophets  had  at  length  been  completely  fulfilled. 

A  third  great  influence  was  the  personality  of  the  priest- 
prophet  Ezekiel.  His  great  older  contemporary,  Jeremiah, 
was  a  priest  too  by  birth  ;  but  he  was  not  like  Ezekiel  a 
priest  by  his  instincts.  It  has  been  thought  by  some  that 
a  priest  and  a  prophet  must  have  collaborated  to  produce 
the  Deuteronomic  code.  If  so,  the  mixture  of  the  two 
currents  became  still  more  intimate  when  they  embodied 
themselves  in  a  single  personality.  Ezekiel’s  vision  of 
the  restored  community  hardly  reads  as  if  it  could  have 
been  intended  as  a  literal  programme.  Even  those  who 
reverenced  his  teaching  replaced  its  impracticable  letter 
by  other  codifications  of  priestly  usage.  But,  in  general 
tone  and  not  a  few  details,  Ezekiel  appears  as  the  inspirer 
of  the  new  legal  temper,  preoccupied  with  sin  and  defile- 


30 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


ment  and  with  ritual  purgations.  A  greater  than  he,  the 
unknown  prophet  of  Isaiah  xl-lv,  had  also  spoken  words 
of  hope,  among  which  ritualism  played  no  part.  But  the 
Deutero-Isaiah  was  to  find  his  goel  in  Christianity.  Ezekiel 
was  the  man  of  the  nearer  future,  the  father  or  at  least  the 
grandfather  of  Judaism. 

The  first  method  for  getting  rid  of  sin  which  one  may 
quote  from  the  Priestly  Code  is  surprisingly  archaic.  It 
occurs,  characteristically  blended  with  others,  in  the 
ritual  of  the  Day  of  Atonement  (Levit.  xvi).  Critics  have 
proved  this  chapter  to  be  a  comparatively  late  section  in 
the  Law,1  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  incorporates 
a  tradition  of  pre-prophetic  and  pre-ethical  usages.  Sin 
is  transferred  to  the  so-called  ‘  scapegoat,’ 2  and  thus 
physically  got  rid  of.  A  parallel  occurs,  in  laws  not  of 
sin  but  of  uncleanness ;  when  a  former  ‘  leper  ’  3  is  to  be 
‘cleansed  ’  and  given  back  to  his  place  in  society  (Levit.  xiv), 
a  living  bird  is  released  over  running  water  to  carry 
away  his  uncleanness.  Possibly  the  running  water  itself 
is  meant  to  serve  the  same  purpose  as  the  bird.  In  any 
case  this  ritual  too  is  a  complex  in  which  several  elements 
are  blended.4 

Once  again  we  find  something  similar  in  the  visions  of 
Zechariah.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  quote  in  this  connec¬ 
tion  his  vision  of  Joshua  the  High  Priest  stripped  of  ‘  filthy 
garments’  and  clothed  with  ‘changes  of  raiment’  (Zech.  iii). 
A  different  symbolism,  dealing  with  ideas  of  which  we  shall 
presently  have  to  speak,  predominates  in  that  chapter — a 
symbolism  of  defilement  and  cleansing.  Physical  separa¬ 
tion  from  sin,  however,  constitutes  the  sole  imagery  in 
another  of  Zechariah’s  visions,  when  ‘  wickedness  ’  as  a 

1  E.g.  Zech.  vii  knows  nothing  of  a  great  authoritative  fast. 

2  A  worse  than  doubtful  translation. 

*  English  readers  should  be  warned  against  identifying  the  leprosy  of  the 
Bible  with  the  dreadful  disease  to  which  modern  medicine  gives  that  name. 

4  Robertson  Smith  quotes  a  parallel  Arabian  usage  ( Relig .  Semites , 
ed.  1907,  pp.  422,  428). 


in.] 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


31 


female  figure  is  carried  off  in  a  great  dish  out  of  the  holy 
country  into  the  land  of  the  heathen  oppressors.  Zechariah 
may  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  literally  exporting 
sin,  yet  the  thought  furnishes  a  natural  symbolism  to 
his  vision.  Earlier  in  the  same  chapter  (Zech.  v)  we  find 
the  prophet  using  equally  physical  imagery  regarding  the 
removal  of  a  ‘  curse.’  After  these  few  passages  in  post¬ 
exile  law  and  prophecy  this  primitive  mode  of  speech 
disappears,  to  meet  us  once  more  transfigured  and  glorified, 
in  the  conception  of  a  divine  ‘  Lamb  ’  who  c  takes  away 
the  sin  of  the  world  ’  (John  i.  29  ;  cf.  1  John  iii.  5). 

We  pass  on  to  an  important  complex  of  ideas  of  which 
we  find  less  trace  in  early  Old  Testament  codes  than  in 
later  codes  or  early  histories — the  ideas  of  holiness  and 
uncleanness.  It  is  strictly  correct  to  say  that  there  are 
three  conceptions  to  be  dealt  with  here  :  what  is  holy  ; 
what  is  *  common  ’  or  neutral ;  what  is  unclean.  Yet  the 
triple  grouping  is  not  always  maintained.  In  the  language 
of  the  New  Testament  ‘  common  ’  and  ‘  unclean  ’  are 
almost  synonymous.  And  in  primitive  times — even  more 
strangely,  from  our  point  of  view — unclean  and  holy  tend 
to  run  into  each  other.1  For,  in  the  absence  of  a  developed 
morality  and  a  higher  religion,  the  two  thoughts  are  both 
vaguely  contained  in  the  thought  of  what  is  taboo  or 
‘  uncanny.’  Following  Dr.  Farnell,2  Professor  A.  R.  S. 
Kennedy  3  has  noted  three  stages  in  the  conception  of  the 
‘  unclean.’  First,  and  primitively,  it  is  ‘  uncanny,’  alarm¬ 
ing,  mysterious.  At  this  stage  the  idea  seems  to  be  non- 
animistic  and  pre-animistic.  Secondly,  animism  arises, 
and  the  strange  processes  of  death,  disease,  and  sex  are 
referred  to  the  presence  and  working  of  formidable  spirits. 
Thirdly,  a  monolatrous  or  monotheistic  religion,  forbidding 

1  There  is  a  curious  repetition  of  this  confusion  in  a  later  age  when  the 
Rabbis  say  that  uncanonical  scriptures  ‘  defile  ’  the  hands.  This,  of  course,  is 
a  mere  coincidence  in  expression. 

2  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  lecture  iii. 

8  *  Leviticus  ’  in  Century  Bible ,  pp.  81,  82. 


32 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


all  religious  commerce  with  spirits  other  than  Jahveh, 
describes  unclean  states  as  incompatible  with  God’s  ‘  holi¬ 
ness.’  The  connection  of  such  states  with  alien  spirits  may 
continue  to  be  believed,  or  it  may  drop  out  of  sight.  In 
either  case  uncleanness,  while  a  physical  evil,  was  held  to 
separate  men  from  the  spiritual  God. 

Perhaps  at  this  stage  the  remark  is  anachronous ; 
yet  let  us  venture  on  it — we  of  later  millenniums,  in  study¬ 
ing  the  primitive  world,  never  can  quite  escape  anachronism 
so  long  as  we  are  our  modern  selves.  A  codified  law,  then, 
tends  to  become  a  list  of  arbitrary  requirements.  Its 
duties  seem  right  simply  because  they  are  commanded, 
its  sins  wrong  simply  because  forbidden.  Bishop  Butler 
has  remarked  shrewdly  enough  that  the  difference  between 
a  moral  and  a  positive  commandment  is  that  one  sees 
reason  for  the  first  and  not  for  the  second.  The  historical 
point  of  view  requires  us,  without  challenging  that  state¬ 
ment,  to  enlarge  it.  First,  we  recognise  that  the  positive 
commandment  is  generally  one  whose  original  motive 
is  forgotten.  And  secondly,  perhaps,  that  the  original 
motive  is  one  which,  could  it  be  revived,  would  be  unwel¬ 
come.  There  are  times,  however,  when  the  contemporary 
mind  discovers  reasons  of  its  own  for  traditional  require¬ 
ments.  The  Priestly  Code — notably  that  early  section 
known  as  H  or  the  law  of  Holiness — presents  to  Israel  a 
definite  and  coherent  ideal  of  conduct :  ‘Ye  shall  be  holy, 
for  I  your  God  am  holy.’  The  ideal  may  be  imperfect. 
Clay  may  be  mixed  with  its  iron,  and  dross  with  its  silver. 
Yet  it  is  much  to  have  duty  marked  as  a  thing  of  coherent 
and  intelligible  principles,  not  a  mere  mass  of  details. 
And  the  thought  of  holiness  points  forward  to  the  highest 
revelation  of  all,  which,  when  it  repeats  the  Old  Testament 
formula,  frowns  upon  nothing  but  sin. 

The  modern  mind  again  is  interested  in  the  connection 
(or  want  of  connection)  between  ceremonial  impurity  and 
physical  dirt,  or  between  ritual  cleansing  and  literal 


III.] 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


33 


washing  of  the  person.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  insist 
that  ‘  uncleanness  ’  among  primitive  peoples  has  nothing 
to  do  either  with  aesthetics  or  with  sanitation.  If  we  must 
have  a  class  name  for  it,  we  can  only  place  it  under  the 
heading  of  ‘  superstitions,’  although — as  Darwinism  insists 
— superstitions  which  are  long-lived  must  either  help  or 
at  the  least  not  greatly  hinder  racial  efficiency.  After  a 
certain  point,  the  parallel  between  ritual  and  bodily  un¬ 
cleanness  becomes  unmistakable.  We  find  this  true  in 
the  Old  Testament,  and  might  no  doubt  verify  it  elsewhere. 
Possibly  even  a  primitive  mind  might  find  a  quasi  religious 
and  quasi  moral  significance  in  ‘  cleanness  ’  technically 
so-called  ;  certainly  we  moderns  would  be  greatly  at  a 
loss  if  we  might  not  empk^  this  middle  link  of  connection. 
Not  all  the  passages  in  the  Old  Testament  which  praise 
*  clean  hands  ’  use  the  technical  adjective  denoting  cere¬ 
monial  cleanness ;  on  the  other  hand,  some  of  them  do. 
So,  too,  in  some  cases  at  least,  it  is  the  physical  offensive¬ 
ness  of  dirt  that  becomes  a  parable  of  sin.  The  high  priest 
in  Zechariah  iii  was  clothed  in  garments  ‘  stained  with 
excrement.’  Even  if  we  be  asked  to  accept  the  far-fetched 
suggestion  that  excrement  was  dangerous  because  of 
opportunities  it  gave  for  magic,1  or  because  of  possible 
connection  with  spirits,  there  is  more  in  the  vision.  Joshua 
is  given  clean  garments.  Surely  this  proves  that  the 
modem  civilised  point  of  view  has  at  least  a  share  in 
determining  the  prophet’s  imagery.  Thus  even  the  Old 
Testament  teaches  men  in  a  sort  of  parable  that  sin  is 
degrading — a  lesson  we  still  need. 

On  the  other  hand  the  ‘  ceremonial  law  ’  suffered  from 
the  defect  of  co-ordinating  moral  sins  with  unpleasant 
but  inevitable  incidents  of  bodily  life,  or  of  its  close  in  death. 
In  the  period  of  the  codified  law,  there  was  actual  retro¬ 
gression  from  the  loftiness  of  the  prophetic  teaching. 


1  Compare  commentaries  on  Deut.  xxiii.  13. 

C 


34  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

Something  was  gained,  when  the  law  became  master ; 
much  for  the  time  was  lost.1 

It  must  be  understood  then  that  the  laws  which  remove 
impurities  are  not  strictly,  even  for  the  Old  Testament 
consciousness,  methods  of  dealing  with  sin.  But  first — 
even  for  the  Old  Testament  mind — they  are  a  parable, 
signifying  or  suggesting  moral  and  religious  cleansing. 
We  see  this  in  the  anti-ritualist  Psalm  li.2  Along  with  a 
purity  4  whiter  than  snow  ’  the  singer  prays  for  cleansing 
with  ‘  hyssop  ’  (v.  7).  And  when  he  asks  for  the  crea¬ 
tion  of  a  ‘  clean  ’ — technically  4  clean  ’ — heart  within 
him  (v.  10),  the  language  may  be  ceremional,  but  the 
thought  is  assuredly  ethical.  Secondly,  the  Old  Testament 
law,  while  not  making  ceremonial  defilement  a  sin,  makes 
sin  a  species  of  ceremonial  defilement,  e.g.  Leviticus  xviii. 
24  (H),  4  Defile  not  ye  yourselves’  [with  sundry  moral 
and  especially  sexual  corruptions].  And  Leviticus  xvi 
prescribes  on  the  Day  of  Atonement  a  4  cleansing  ’  of  the 
altar  (v.  19)  and  of  the  people  (v.  30)  by  sacrifices.  Simi¬ 
larly,  sacrifices  enter  into  4  almost  ’  3  all  purificatory  rites. 
In  the  region  of  externals,  the  modern  counterpart  to  all 
these  is  the  Christian  ordinance  of  baptism. 

We  pass  now  to  deal  more  directly  with  the  greatest 
of  all  means  by  which  the  Priestly  Code  sought  to  get  rid 
of  sin — an  expansion  and  elaboration  of  sacrifices  for  the 
sake  of  4  atoning.’ 

The  Hebrew  word  4  atone  ’  (or  its  cognates)  occurs  first 

1  It  has  been  said  by  Robertson  Smith  that  the  use  of  water  as  a  means 
equally  for  cleaning  the  person  and  for  getting  rid  of  ceremonial  defilement 
may  have  initiated  the  process  by  which  the  two  thoughts  drew  together. 
How  then,  asks  the  modern,  did  water  come  to  rank  as  ceremonially  purify¬ 
ing  unless  because  physically  it  cleaned  ?  The  objection  is  natural,  but  not 
perhaps  conclusive.  Dr.  Farnell  suggests  that  liquids  may  have  seemed 
suitable  for  ceremonial  cleansing,  because  of  their  extreme  mobility.  If 
so,  there  was  at  first  no  prerogative  in  favour  of  liquids  which  wash  well 
over  others.  To  this  day,  in  the  symbolism  of  religion,  blood  outranks 
water  as  a  means  of  cleansing. 

2  No  sophistry  will  ever  make  it  credible  that  the  last  two  verses  belong 
to  the  original  structure  of  the  Psalm. 

*  Heb.  ix.  22. 


in.] 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


35 


of  all  not  in  the  region  of  sacrifices  but  of  fines.  If  the 
family  of  one  who  has  met  his  death  by  manslaughter,  as 
distinguished  from  deliberate  murder,  choose  to  accept 
a  money  compensation,  they  may  do  so  ;  and  such  com¬ 
pensation  bears  the  name  of  kopher,  evidently  a  technical 
expression  in  this  sense.  Again,  one  pre-exile  reference 
to  offerings  for  ‘sin  ’  or  ‘guilt’ — A.  V.,  ‘  sin  ’  and  ‘  trespass’ 
— speaks  of  sin  and  trespass  ‘  money.’ 1  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  whether  these  fines  were  called  by 
the  name  of  kopher ,  or  were  said  to  kipper.  We  have  no 
information  on  the  point. 

In  other  directions  we  meet  with  the  word,  and  curious 
associations  arise.  A  kopher  may  be  a  bribe.  If  so,  it  is 
no  expiation  ;  but  such  a  kopher  is  still,  if  less  creditably, 
a  means  of  escaping  the  disagreeable  consequences  of  moral 
guilt,  or  of  averting  apprehended  evil.  So  far  as  I  am 
aware,  we  have  no  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a  true  pardon 
in  the  jurisprudence  of  ancient  Israel — of  an  irreversible 
executive  act  by  which  penalty  is  remitted.  David’s  pro¬ 
mise  to  Shimei  does  not  guarantee  Shimei  against  danger, 
arising  at  David’s  own  instigation,  under  the  next  king. 
Yet  forgiveness  is  interpreted  among  the  Hebrews  along 
the  line  of  penalty  ;  it  is  a  waiving  of  penalties  incurred. 
If  we  like  we  may  call  this  Hebrew  theory  commercial. 
Kipper  is  one  term — not  of  course  the  only  term — for  ex¬ 
pressing  what  it  is  to  forgive  and  to  be  forgiven.  Unless 
Babylonian  evidence  is  held  to  override  the  Hebrew  evi¬ 
dence,  we  should  (as  Professor  Moore  says)  2  have  no  need 
to  dabble  in  etymology,  or  to  hesitate  between  Arabic 
and  Syriac  usages  of  cognate  stems.  Within  the  Old 
Testament  it  would  seem  plain  enough  that  we  are  not  to 
press  the  etymology,  and  that  kipper  had  come  to  mean 
getting  rid  of  an  actual  or  anticipated  evil,  such  as 
hostility  or  estrangement,  by  means  of  a  kopher. 

1  2  Kings  xii.  16.  Chronicles  omits  the  statement. 

a  Art.  ‘  Sacritice  ’  in  Encyclopaedia  Biblica. 


36 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


But,  if  the  word  ‘  atone  ’  was  not  originally  connected 
with  sacrifice,  a  connection  must  have  established  itself 
in  pretty  early  days.  Whatever  sacrifice  meant  inde¬ 
pendently  of  atoning — gift,  communion,  homage — sacri¬ 
fices  might  also  serve  to  reknit  friendly  relations  with 
heaven,  if  these  had  been  interrupted.  1  Samuel  iii.  14 
announces  exceptionally  that  no  zebach  or  minchah — the 
two  commonest  species  of  offerings — were  to  avail  for  the 
guilty  house  of  Eli.  Micah  vi 1  discusses  and  dismisses  the 
whole-burnt-offering — a  sacrifice  still  of  special  weight  in 
the  book  of  Leviticus — however  multiplied  and  exaggerated 
even  to  ‘  thousands  ’  ;  then  passes  on,  without  discovering 
any  hope  of  success,  to  the  more  dreadful  offering  of  a 
human  victim.  In  the  dark  davs  of  Manasseh’s  cruel 
heathenism  questions  as  to  atonement  must  have  forced 
themselves  into  prominence  everywhere.  Professor  Moore 
thinks  that  asham  must  have  come  to  be  employed  as  the 
name  of  a  sacrifice  even  before  Ezekiel ;  this  might 
explain  the  use  of  the  word  at  Isaiah  liii.  10.  If  we  do 
not  adopt  this  suggestion,  it  would  be  natural  to  hold  that 
Ezekiel,  with  his  engrossment  in  the  problem  of  sin  and 
his  interest  in  ceremonial,  added  to  the  recognised  fist  of 
offerings  the  two  new  kinds  2  of  which  we  read  for  the 
first  time  in  his  pages.  But  we  must  not  suppose  that 
Ezekiel  confined  atoning  functions  to  these.  As  he  saw 
sin  everywhere,  so  he  recognised  atonement  everywhere  in 
the  sacrifices  God  graciously  appointed.  The  Priestly  Code 
is  less  emphatic  ;  reference  to  atoning  functions  appears, 
disappears,  reappears  irregularly  as  we  read  through  the 
sacrificial  toroth  at  the  beginning  of  Leviticus.  But  the 
meaning  of  the  code  is  the  same  as  Ezekiel’s.  Atoning 
virtue  is  still  held  to  be  a  general  property  of  sacrifices. 

A  divergent  view  of  atonement,  familiar  to  English 

1  This  writer  is  still  unacquainted  with  guilt-offerings  and  sin-offerings 
such  as  stand  in  the  later  sacrificial  law. 

2  The  distinction  between  siu-  and  guilt-offerings  appears  to  be  an 
archaeological  question,  of  no  ascertainable  importance  for  theology . 


m.] 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


37 


readers  in  Schultz’s  Old  Testament  Theology ,  was  put 
forward  by  Albrecht  Ritschl ;  that  atonement  was  designed 
to  safeguard  creaturely  weakness  in  God’s  presence,  not 
to  rectify  the  consequences  of  sin.  It  is  true  that  Schultz 
softens  the  sharpness  of  the  position  by  remarking,  wdth 
good  reason,  that  the  Old  Testament  takes  no  trouble  to 
contrast  creaturely  weakness  and  moral  guilt.  Ritschl 
is  less  inclined  to  blunt  the  edge  of  his  novel  assertion.  It 
helps  him  towards  that  curious  feature  in  his  dogmatic 
system,  the  absence  of  recognition  of  a  remedial  aspect  in 
the  gospel  of  Christ. 

Perhaps  the  most  plausible  argument  in  favour  of  this 
view  is  based  upon  the  half-shekel.  Its  purpose  (Ex.  xxx. 
12)  is  ‘  that  there  may  be  no  plague  .  .  .  when  thou 
numberest  ’  the  people.  Though  the  word  employed  is 
different,  this  provision  rightly  recalls  to  us  the  c  pesti¬ 
lence  ’  which  is  said  to  have  punished  King  David’s  census 
(2  Sam.  xxiv).  Obviously  the  machinery  by  which  a 
census  might  be  rendered  safe  was  an  afterthought  of 
piety,1  though  tradition  characteristically  groups  it  as 
Mosaic.  Such  a  payment  is  no  acknowledgment  of  sin. 
It  would  be  a  slander  to  hold  that  the  Old  Testament 
found  a  possibility  of  sinning  safely  by  paying  dues  to 
the  priests.  What  the  law  requires  is  timely  recognition 
of  the  divine  authority.  It  ordains  a  precaution  ;  not 
a  penalty,  still  less  a  bribe.  Such  a  precaution  would  be 
suitably  explained  upon  Ritschl’ s  view  of  atonement. 
Yet  on  the  whole  it  seems  likely  that  kopher  and  kippurim 
are  employed  in  this  passage  inexactly,  with  a  larger 
reference  than  they  properly  bear.  If  so,  the  passage 
proves  nothing  as  to  the  meaning  of  ‘  atone.’ 

Robertson  Smith  employs  the  word  ‘  atone,’  and  cog¬ 
nates,  of  the  primitive  totemist  or  quasi  totemist  com¬ 
munion-meal  which  his  theory  places  at  the  basis  of 

1  Nehem.  x.  32  must  also  be  compared.  The  regulation  of  P  C  is  later 
than  that. 


38  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

sacrifice.  He  does  not  I  think  tell  us  that  kipper  and 
kopher  or  kippurim  are  employed  in  regard  to  these  early 
Semitic  sacrifices  ;  possibly  no  evidence  on  that  point  is 
available.1  One  is  not  criticising  the  great  scholar  in 
calling  attention  to  this  linguistic  ambiguity  ;  one  is  only 
trying  to  help  readers  through  a  labyrinth.  There  may 
be  a  piacular  element  in  all  primitive  Semitic  sacrifices 
in  the  sense  that  the  sacrifice  reknits  by  physical  process  the 
weakening  bond  of  connection  between  the  god  and  his 
human  clients.  The  word  ‘  atone  ’  seems  to  emerge  in 
the  Hebrew  language  with  different  associations.  It 
refers  to  wrongdoing — moral  or  ritual,  voluntary  or  in¬ 
advertent — when  such  wrongdoing  is  confessed,  made 
good,  forgiven. 

The  study  of  atoning  sacrifice  inevitably  raises  for  us 
the  larger  problem  of  the  original  meaning  of  sacrifice 
as  such.  It  may  be  well  to  note  the  different  elements 
which  Robertson  Smith’s  theory  recognises. 

First  there  is  a  gift  or  tribute.  According  to  Robertson 
Smith  this  element  is  of  minor  importance.  He  holds 
that  in  early  days  it  is  confined  to  the  minchah  or  vegetable 
offering,  which  he  thinks  was  originally  an  offering  of 
first-fruits,  releasing  the  rest  of  the  crop  from  taboo  and 
making  it  available  for  human  use.  Other  authorities 
hold  that  the  confinement  of  minchah  to  vegetable  offerings 
is  a  novelty  in  the  Priestly  Code.  And  certainly  one  would 
suppose  that  the  minchah  which  King  Saul  was  to  make 
Jahveh  ‘  smell  ’  (1  Sam.  xxvi.  19)  would  more  naturally 
consist  of  roast  flesh.  In  later  ages,  when  the  essential 
sacredness  of  the  species  of  animals  offered  in  sacrifice 
had  been  forgotten — when  their  totem  character  had 
quite  disappeared — Smith  recognises  that  the  first  stage 
even  in  the  sacrifice  of  an  animal  is  a  ritual  of  consecra¬ 
tion,  making  it  over  to  God  as  His  property  and  therefore 
holy. 


1  Unless  Babylonian? 


III.J 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


39 


If  a  non-expert  may  express  an  opinion,  it  would  appear 
that  Smith’s  theory  in  this  respect  is  at  least  upon  the 
right  lines.  The  gift-theory  can  hardly  be  the  whole  or 
even  the  central  truth  about  sacrifice.  Primitive  man  did 
not  begin  by  developing  the  conception  of  a  god  as  a 
personal  or  quasi  personal  spirit,  then,  when  that  task 
was  finished,  ask  himself,  c  How  can  I  please  such  a  being  ?  ’ 
and  proceed  to  the  answer,  ‘  Why,  I  ’ll  make  him  a  present.’ 
There  must  surely  have  been  a  rudimentary  form  of  religion 
or  of  worship,  however  vague,  growing  in  the  primitive  mind 
as  a  parallel  to  the  rudimentary  but  growing  conception 
of  God.  It  is  worth  noting  that,  on  Smith’s  theory,  the 
gift  element  in  the  earliest  sacrifice  is  not  a  mere  gift.  It 
has  a  mystical  or  magical  efficacy,  independently  of  its 
power  of  conciliating  divine  good-will.  It  releases  the 
crops  for  human  use. 

The  second  element  recognised  by  Smith  in  sacrifice — 
we  assume  animal  sacrifice  henceforward  as  the  true  type 
— is  slaughter.  On  the  old-fashioned  penal-substitution 
view  of  sacrifice  and  atonement,  attention  ought  to  be 
focussed  upon  the  victim’s  death.  Nothing  could  be 
further  from  the  truth.  Death  presents  itself  as  a  mere 
incident  in  a  complex  of  more  important  parts.  Again, 
the  lay  worshipper  officiates,  not  usually  the  priest. 
Smith  notices  that  in  a  few  sacrifices  there  is  emphasis 
upon  the  slaughter  as  performed  ‘  before  the  Lord.’  But 
not  even  in  these  cases  does  the  victim’s  death  appear 
outstandingly  important  or  sacred. 

Thirdly,  the  blood  is  manipulated.  It  is  poured  out 
at  the  foot  of  the  altar  ;  or  it  is  applied  to  the  altar’s 
horns,  or  to  parts  of  the  worshipper’s  body.  Leviticus 
xvii.  11  (H)  tells  us  that  the  blood  has  specifically  atoning 
quality  ‘  because  of  the  life  that  is  in  it  ’  ;  but  the  toroth 
of  Leviticus  i  etc.,  when  they  speak  of  several  sacrifices 
as  4  atoning,’  make  no  special  mention  of  the  manipulation 
of  the  blood.  What  Leviticus  xvii  has  in  view  remains 


40 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


doubtful.  The  old  translation  ‘  maketh  atonement  for 
the  soul  ’  is  grammatically  false ;  still  the  assertion 
remains,  that  blood  because  it  has  a  soul  or  a  life  in  it 
makes  atonement  ‘  on  behalf  of  your  souls.’ 1 

Fourthly,  according  to  W.  R.  Smith,  the  earliest  form  of 
sacrificial  meal  was  the  consumption  of  raw  flesh  (as 
witnessed  by  Nilus  among  the  heathen  Arabs).  It  was 
supposed  that  the  deity  joined  invisibly  in  this  savage 
banquet.  The  pouring  out  of  blood  was  introduced  not 
mainly  by  advancing  civilisation  but  from  a  supersti¬ 
tious  fear  of  so  peculiarly  sacred  a  portion  of  the  sacred 
carcase.  Once  the  custom  came  in,  it  lent  itself  to  the 
first  faint  beginnings  of  rationalism.  It  seemed  less 
outrageous  that  the  deity  should  consume  liquids  than 
solids,  and  the  liquid  was  a  mystical  or  magical  quint¬ 
essence  of  life.  Yet  surely  Leviticus  furnishes  evidence 
that  a  new  Importance  came  to  be  attached  to  the  atoning 
power  of  blood.  Clearly  theorised  or  left  obscure,  the 
new  emphasis  somehow  arose. 

Fifthly,  part  or  all  of  the  victim  came  to  be  burned. 
This  also  Smith  would  explain  as  due  to  primitive  super¬ 
stition.  The  one  motive  he  recognises  as  operative  when 
fire  is  first  used  in  sacrifice  is  the  desire  to  get  rid  of 
dangerously  holy  material.  We  see  that  motive  at  work 
in  the  (comparatively  late)  sin-offering,  where  bodies  of 
victims  not  offered  up  on  the  altar  are  characterised  as 
‘  most  holy  ’ 2  and  burned  ‘  without  the  camp.’  Once 
established,  this  custom  lent  itself  to  a  further  advance 
towards  rationalism ;  God  enjoyed  the  smell  of  the  meat ! 
That  sufficed,  without  either  eating  or  drinking,  for  the 
meal  of  a  deity. 

Lastly,  when  the  use  of  raw  flesh  had  become  unthink¬ 
able,  a  sacred  meal  of  cooked  flesh  was  in  many  cases 

1  Professor  Moore  suggests  that  blood  atones  as  a  ‘  live  ’  fluid,  not  a  mere 
product  of  life  like  oil  or  milk,  still  less  like  water. 

2'  A  final  blow  to  the  penal-substitution  theory.  Had  it  been  correct,  such 
victims  must  have  been  most  accursed. 


III.  j 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


41 


partaken  of  by  the  offerers,  while  in  the  case  of  certain 
sin-offerings  the  priests  as  holier  men  represented  the 
offerers  in  this  function. 

The  whole  complex  process  of  animal  sacrifice,  as  now 
traced  out,  has  ‘  atoning  ’  value  ascribed  to  it.  If  we  do 
occasionally  find  a  vegetable  minchah  accepted  from  a 
poor  man  in  lieu  of  any  animal  victim — ‘  almost ,  all  things 
are  under  the  law  purified  with  blood  ’ — we  need  not  set 
aside  the  rule  that  ‘  without  shedding  of  blood  remission 
does  not  take  place.’  The  exception  is  permitted  from  a 
merciful  motive,  frankly  as  an  exception.  Part  of  the 
wonted  complex  may  serve,  in  case  of  need,  for  the  whole  ; 
just  as  Roman  Catholicism  justifies  withholding  the  cup 
from  the  laity  by  teaching  that  the  bread  per  se  and  the 
watered  wine  per  se  each  becomes  body  and  blood  of 
the  Saviour.,  The  theory  of  Romanism  is  completer, 
but  the  result  is  the  same — a  part  may  replace  the  whole. 
The  theological  outcome  of  Smith’s  analysis  would  seem 
to  be  that  for  the  Old  Testament  itself  atoning  sacrifice 
is  an  uncomprehended  anachronism.  There  is  no  theory 
of  its  rationale  before  the  mind  of  prophets  or  lawgivers. 

Looking  back  from  a  Christian  point  of  view,  we  must 
judge  it  to  be  a  very  noteworthy  fact  that  the  Levitical 
law  did  not  attempt  to  re-establish  national  fellowship 
with  God — interrupted  by  the  exile  in  punishment  of  the 
nation’s  sin — by  any  ritual  atonement.  It  was  left  for 
Christianity  to  point  to  one  great  and  better  sacrifice.1 
Over  the  renewed  life  of  the  community,  around  its  rebuilt 
sanctuary,  there  still  hung  dark  shadows  of  sin.  Sin- 
offering  is  introduced  into  the  Passover  2  by  Ezekiel  and 
after  him  by  the  Priestly  Code.  Elsewhere,  too,  sin-offer¬ 
ings  appear  again  and  again,  notably  ‘  once  every  year.’ 

1  Even  the  prophets  who  spoke  of  the  ‘  better  covenant  ’  did  not  know  of 
the  more  perfect  sacrifice. 

2  Fortunately  we  have  no  need  to  discuss  the  problem  of  the  original 
meaning  of  the  Passover.  It  may  survive  (in  a  sense)  in  the  Lord’s  Supper, 


42 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


But  the  offerings — even,  it  is  probable,  that  of  the  great 
Fast  day — are  for  minor  offences.  Both  Deuteronomy 
and  Priestly  Code  define  sacrifice  as  a  remedy  for 
ignorance  or  weakness.  A  sin  unto  death  has  no  means 
of  expiation  left  it.  Nor,  when  the  nation  has  died  in 
exile,  does  sacrifice  renew  its  covenant.  God  4  does  good 
in  His  good  pleasure  to  Zion.’  He  pardons  4  for  His  own 
name’s  sake.’  One  might  even  incline  to  confine  4  sins  of 
ignorance  ’  to  involuntary  ritual  lapses.  If  so,  there  would 
be  in  the  matter  no  real  sin  4  as  touching  the  conscience.’ 
But  a  little  inquiry  shows  that  not  a  few  tolerably 
deliberate  acts  of  sin  are  brought  under  this  rubric  of 
involuntary  transgression. 

When  we  pass  from  the  law  to  the  Psalms  and  other 
writings,  we  find  a  significant  absence  of  atoning  sacri¬ 
fices.  Sacrifices  of  thanksgiving  and  the  like  are  lovingly 
dwelt  upon  in  many  psalms,  but  not  sin-offerings.  And 
over  against  the  group  of  sacrificial  psalms  we  have  to 
place  the  great  anti-sacrificial  three — xl  1  li.  The  first 
of  these  explicitly  names  hatach  among  the  things  which 
God  did  not  desire.  The  third,  while  freely  using  the 
language  of  purificatory  rites,  tells  us  plainly  that  the 
only  sacrifice  welcomed  from  a  sinner  is  that  of  a  repentant 
heart.  On  the  other  hand,  we  must  admit  that  not  many 
psalms  prolong  these  deep  notes  of  penitence.  Yet  the 
note  is  enough  in  itself  to  discredit  Duhm’s  disparaging 
theory  regarding  e.g.  Psalm  xxxii.  Still  a  third  group  of 
psalms  falls  to  be  noted — those  of  self-confidence,  almost 
of  self-righteousness ;  xxvi  xliv  and  others.  For  good 
or  for  evil,  penitence  fails  to  be  the  master  chord  in  the 
psalter.  At  least  it  fails  to  rule  out  every  discordant  note. 
We  find  in  Proverbs  an  ethical  emphasis  and  a  qualified 
disparagement  of  sacrifice,1  but  for  hamartiology  we  must 
turn  to  the  cynical  rather  than  profound  philosophisings 

1  E.g.  xxi.  3. 


HI.] 


THE  PRIESTLY  CODE 


43 


of  Ecclesiastes,1  or  to  individual  sayings  in  the  Wisdom 
literature — sometimes  perhaps  glosses  — such  as  Job  xiv.  4.2 

Peculiar  importance  belongs  to  the  Book  of  Job  in  two 
respects.  First,  it  definitely  repudiates  the  theory  that 
all  suffering  is  penal.  In  a  world  of  sin,  much  suffering 
is  no  doubt  deserved  —  but  not  all.  When  the  Old 
Testament  had  slowly  learned  to  believe  in  a  moral  God 
exercising  justice  it  was  a  great  advance  to  learn  the 
further  lesson,  that  divine  justice  is  not  the  only  source 
of  human  sorrow.  Secondly,  this  great  book  ends  with 
a  reassertion  of  the  doctrine  of  human  sinfulness  upon 
more  spiritual  lines.  In  God’s  presence,  Job,  who  silenced 
the  calumnies  of  friend  after  friend,  becomes  no  less 
immediately  conscious  of  guilt  than  Isaiah  :  ‘  Now  mine 
eye  seeth  thee ;  wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and  repent  in 
dust  and  ashes.’  N 

1  vii.  20. 

2  W.  R.  Smith’s  later  judgment  is  that  the  hamartiological  teachings  of 
sacrifice  accomplished  little  (Rel.  Sem.,  pp.  424-5);  contrast  Old  Testament 
in  Jewish  Church p.  382;  somewhat  modified,  ed.  2,  pp.  380-381. 


44 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  JUDAISM 

There  is  no  more  startling  change  in  the  history  of  thought 
than  when  we  pass  from  the  general  Old  Testament  doc¬ 
trine  of  sin  to  the  New  Testament.  We  enter  a  new  world. 
Many  of  its  doctrinal  presuppositions  are  not  created  by 
Christ  or  the  apostles,  but  are  accepted  from  the  ideas 
of  the  land  and  the  age.  The  sources  of  our  information 
about  these  ideas  are  threefold.  First,  there  are  sundry 
late  passages  in  the  Old  Testament  which  contrast  with 
the  general  strain  of  its  teaching.  Secondly,  there  are 
the  apocryphal  and  pseudepigraphic  writings ; 1  some 
of  them  are  later  than  the  New  Testament,  but  may 
be  regarded  as  representing  older  strata  of  belief.  Thirdly, 
there  are  still  later  confirmations  in  rabbinical  theology,  as 
interpreted  for  us  by  experts.  The  main  change  has  been 
stated  in  a  few  telling  words  by  Ecce  Homo :  4  Man  had 
come  to  consider  or  suspect  himself  to  be  immortal.’  This 
discovery  put  the  climax  upon  that  process  of  individualis¬ 
ing  the  doctrine  of  responsibility  which  is  characteristic 
of  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel.  A  man  could  not  be  a  mere  part 
of  his  tribe  if  eternal  destinies  opened  before  the  indi¬ 
vidual.  Even  if  death  should  end  all  for  the  wicked — 
what  a  forfeiture,  to  lose  eternal  life  !  And,  when  eternal 
punishment  came  to  be  taught,  the  guilt  of  sin  was  pro¬ 
claimed  in  new  and  startling  characters. 

1  While  epigraphy = the  science  of  inscriptions,  pseudepigraphy=the 
custom  of  falsely  ascribing  books  to  dead  authors. 


IV.] 


HAMARTIOLOGY  OF  JUDAISM 


45 


It  has  been  debated  whether  we  can  trace  a  plea  for 
personal  immortality  in  the  Psalms.  The  high  authority 
of  Dr.  Charles  still  supports  that  belief,  and  places  the 
‘  doctrine  of  individual  immortality  *  earlier  than  the  hope 
of  resurrection.1  In  the  Psalter,  however,  there  is  on 
any  view  little  connection  with  our  subject.2  The  resur¬ 
rection  hope  makes  for  the  first  time  a  definite  doctrinal 
assertion.  Early  prophecies  of  death  and  subsequent 
revival  (Hos.  vi.  2 ;  Ezek.  xxxvii)  are  no  more  than 
metaphors  of  the  nation’s  history.  We  meet  with  the 
literal  hope  in  the  apocalypse  or  apocalypses  of  Isaiah 
xxiv-xxvii  and  again  at  Daniel  xii.  2,  while  the  Book  of 
Enoch  seems  to  have  implanted  the  new  teaching  in  the 
general  belief.  The  radicalism  of  Duhm  and  Marti,  ignor¬ 
ing  difficulties  in  regard  to  the  growth  of  the  Old  Testament 
canon,  places  Isaiah  xxiv-xxvii  after  the  Maccabean  rising, 
and  therefore  later  than  either  Daniel  or  the  earliest  parts 
of  Enoch.  If  we  may  assume  an  earlier  date,3  then  Isaiah 
xxiv-xxvii  first  promises  resurrection  to  the  righteous  dead, 
while  Daniel  xii.  2  knows  of  resurrection — with  contrary 
results — in  the  case  of  some  or  many  supremely  godly 
and  of  some  supremely  wicked  souls. 

The  Old  Testament  4  had  identified  itself  at  the  first 
with  a  very  disparaging  estimate  of  life  after  death.  There 
was  to  be  no  absolute  extinction,  but  a  mere  shadow  of 
life  in  Sheol,  far  aloof  from  Jehovah.  Personal  identity 
seemed  to  belong  to  the  body  rather  than  the  soul ;  hence  im¬ 
mortality  is  conceived  as  bodily  resurrection.  Yet  we  must 
not  expect  to  tie  down  any  word,  and  least  of  all  an  eschato¬ 
logical  term,  to  its  etymological  sense.  Dr.  Charles  points 

1  Little  can  be  proved  from  Psalms  xvi  and  xvii.  Psalms  xlix  and  lxxiii 
seem  to  build  hope  for  all  the  godly  upon  the  legend  of  that  Enoch  whom 
God  ‘took.’  Duhm  finds  the  ‘  silent  ’  prayer  for  immortality  in  the  touching 
and  submissive  lines  of  Psalm  xxxix.  Might  one  add  the  closing  verses  of 
Psalms  1  and  xci  ?  What  else,  in  their  context,  can  they  mean  ? 

2  Ps.  xlix  is  the  only  one  that  may  have  a  doctrine  of  supernatural  penalty 
upon  sin. 

3  So  even  Dr.  Cheyne  in  Encydopatdia  Biblica. 

4  Possibly  from  jealousy  of  ancestor  worship  ;  so  Dr.  Charles  suggests. 


46 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


out  many  usages.1  Resurrection  may  be  of  soul  alone — 
or  of  soul  and  body.  It  may  occur  before  the  Messianic 
kingdom,  as  a  preparation  for  sharing  in  it — or  after  the 
kingdom,  as  a  preparation  for  the  glories  of  a  world  to  come. 
It  may  lead  on  to  deathlessness — or  the  happy  risen  dead, 
after  participating  in  supreme  joys,  may  die  2  once  more. 
It  may  be  confined  to  the  righteous,  for  whom  the  religious 
postulate  demands  it — or  it  may  satisfy  ethics  by  apply¬ 
ing  both  to  righteous  and  wicked.  The  word  resurrection 
does  not  long  continue  to  suggest  reinforcement  of  the 
few  living  saints  by  squadrons  of  the  dead.  It  becomes 
more  and  more  a  synonym  for  immortality.  Nor  need 
the  ‘  sleep  ’  of  the  dead  long  have  continued  to  imply 
literal  unconsciousness. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  Messianic  kingdom.  It  may  be 
well  to  point  out  that  belief  in  immortality  arises — under 
the  name  4  resurrection  * — in  an  age  when  belief  in  a  per¬ 
sonal  Messiah  is  no  more  than  a  languid  literary  tradition. 
Good  authorities  agree  that  it  was  the  spiritual  failure 
of  the  Maccabean  dynasty  which  called  the  older  faith 
back  into  real  life.  Two  different  forms  of  the  faith  shape 
themselves.  The  Psalter  of  Solomon  3  hopes  for  a  human 
king  of  David’s  line.  The  similitudes  of  the  Book  of  Enoch  4 
are  definitely  assigned,  apart  from  isolated  Christian 
glosses,  to  a  pre-Christian  period,  and  exhibit  a  new  super¬ 
natural  doctrine  of  the  Messiah.  He  is  heavenly  and 
pre-existent ;  a  view  specially  associated  with  the  title 
‘  Son  of  Man.’  Both  forms  of  Messianic  doctrine  adopt  the 
resurrection  hope  ;  but  in  neither  case  is  the  connection 
more  than  external.  4  Solomon  ’  has  a  doctrine  of  resur- 

1  Even  within  the  Book  of  Enoch.  Dr.  Charles  has  solid  grounds  in 
criticism — whether  conclusive  or  not — for  the  rather  small  mincemeat  he 
makes  of  his  documents. 

2  Surely  it  is  rather  misleading,  theologically,  to  call  this  ‘  second  death  ’ 
(Dr.  Charles). 

3  Psalms  xvii  and  xviii. 

4  Formerly  known  as  ‘The  Book  of  Three  Parables.’  Since  the  present 
writer  tried  to  deal  with  these  questions  twenty-four  years  ago,  criticism  has 
very  materially  cleared  the  issues. 


IV.] 


HAMARTIOLO GY  OF  JUDAISM 


47 


rection  (for  the  righteous  alone)  in  Psalms  which  say 
nothing  of  the  Messiah.  Conversely,  Psalms  xvii  and  xviii 
say  nothing  of  resurrection.  And  it  is  awkward  when  the 
heavenly  being  of  ‘  Enoch  ’  is  said  to  bring  immortality  in 
so  earth-bound  a  form  as  c  resurrection.’  1  The  doctrine 
of  an  ‘  age  to  come  ’  is  a  growth  more  native  to  the  new 
eschatological  piety. 

If  Isaiah  xxiv-xxvii  thinks  of  dead  saints  reinforcing 
the  living,  then  resurrection  within  these  chapters  represents 
an  immortality  which  has,  in  one  sense,  as  little  of  the 
supernatural  in  it  as  it  well  could  have.  Elsewhere,  how¬ 
ever,  these  same  chapters  present  to  us  a  startling  and 
bewilderingly  novel  doctrine — that  of  the  imprisonment 
and  ultimate  punishment  of  the  guilty  angel  princes.  Here 
it  is  probable  that  foreign  belief  is  at  work.  Early  chapters 
in  ‘  Enoch  ’  try  to  support  the  new  belief  from  the  scrap 
of  mythology  at  Genesis  vi.  I.2  Probably  that  is  an 
awkward  attempt  to  find  biblical  support  for  a  borrowed 
dogma.  The  more  dignified  Fall-narrative  of  Genesis  iii 
is  thrust  into  the  background  in  ‘  Enoch  ’  by  this  fantastic 
development  of  Genesis  vi.  The  beauty  of  women  seduced 
angels,3  especially  Azazel.4  There  is  no  mention  of  Satan. 
When  the  wickedness  of  the  age  culminates  in  the  Flood, 
the  giants  born  of  these  intrigues  are  drowned,  but  their 
disembodied  spirits  still  haunt  the  world  as  demons — ■ 
surely  a  very  eerie  fancy.  Thus  ‘  Enoch  ’  rather  than 
Isaiah  xxiv-xxvii  gives  us  that  conception  of  fallen  angels 
which  has  passed  through  Jude  and  2  Peter  into  Christian 
theology.  In  the  New  Testament  epistles,  these  evil  angels 
are  still  thought  of  as  imprisoned.  The  Synoptic  Gospels 

1  There  may  be  Persian  leaven  in  the  resurrection  doctrine.  It  need  not 
have  been  so. 

2  Or,  as  some  think,  from  a  longer  version  of  the  myth  which  has  failed 
to  survive. 

3  Though  that  is  not  the  name. 

4  The  demon  of  Leviticus  xvi.  Again,  probably,  Old  Testament  material 
is  being  forced  to  support  new  dogmas. 


48 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


reveal  a  belief  in  demons — however  related  to  these  in¬ 
carcerated  spirits — as  the  authors  of  mental  and  nervous 
disease.  In  the  Pauline  epistles  1  we  have  still  another 
conception.  Spiritual  powers — evil  beings,  or  at  the  best 
morally  neutral — impose  themselves  on  human  worship. 
They  are  associated  with  the  forces  of  nature  and  with  the 
Old  Testament  law. 

In  speaking  the  name  Satan  we  return  to  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment.  A  possible  though  questionable  antecedent  for  this 
doctrine  may  be  recognised  in  the  belief  in  mischievous 
spirits  sent  out  from  God.  In  Job,  and  in  Zechariah  iii, 
we  have  the  word  itself.  In  these  passages  Satan  is  a 
title.  He  is  ‘  the  adversary,’  the  impersonation  of  God’s 
severer  dealings.  But  in  1  Chronicles  xxi.  1  Satan  has 
dropped  the  article,  become  (as  in  the  New  Testament) 
a  name,  and  means  that  supremely  wicked  spirit  who 
tempts  men  to  sin.  Even  in  the  New  Testament  Satan 
is  still  conceived  as  the  author  of  disease  (Luke  xiii. 
16  ;  2  Cor.  xii.  7),  and  again  as  a  prosecuting  counsel 
before  God  (Rev.  xii.  10  ;  comp.  Rom.  viii.  34). 
The  LXX  translate  uniformly  by  Slol/SoXos  :  2 3  and  this 
Greek  form  yields  to  Mohammedan  theology  the  Arabic 
Iblis,  to  Christian  doctrine  the  English  ‘  devil  ’  and  its 
cognates.  Our  translators  are  not  to  blame  if  at  times 
they  use  devil  for  Sou/xoViov  also.  (Compare  Deut.  xxxii. 
17,^  Ps.  cvi.  37,  Tobit.  vi.  7,  17,  Ep.  Baruch  iv.  7). 
4  Thou  hast  a  daimonion  ’  is  and  is  meant  to  be  a 
blasphemous  insult.  The  word  has  grown  really 
synonymous  with  devil.  Yet  it  is  a  peculiar  infamy 
for  Judas  that  he — not  has  a  daimonion ,  but — is  a 
Diabolus  (John  vi.  70). 4 

1  Gal.  iv.  3,  9  ;  Col.  i.  20  ;  ii.  18  ;  1  Cor.  ii.  8. 

2  Compare  Wisdom  ii.  24. 

3  Sacrifices  to  Shedim — primitive  fiends. 

4  Beelzebub  or  Beelzebul  ‘  the  prince  of  demons  ’  appears  in  two  or  three 
New  Testament  passages,  Belial  or  Beliar  in  one. 


IV.] 


HAMARTIOLOGY  OF  JUDAISM 


49 


There  was  no  original  connection  between  the  devil  and 
hell,  closely  as  we  associate  them.  We  have  just  noted 
how  ‘  Satan  *  and  its  translation  ‘  devil  ’  arose.  There 
may  have  been  foreign  influences  at  work.  The  word 
hell — Gehenna — is  unmistakably  native.  To  begin  with,  it 
is  a  geographical  expression.  The  valley  of  Hinnom  or 
of  the  sons  of  Hinnom  lay  beneath  the  walls  of  Jerusalem, 
joining  the  gorge  of  the  winter-torrent  Kidron.  Next, 
the  valley  gained  evil  associations  from  the  sacrificing  of 
children  to  the  royal  or  ‘  king  ’  god  of  Semitic  heathenism 
— Meleeh ;  the  pious  spitefulness  of  later  Jews  wrote  the 
word  with  the  vowels  of  bosheth,  ‘  shameful  thing,’  and 
possibly  substituted  that  word  for  the  name.  Foreigners 
ignorantly  reading  the  text  learned  to  say  Molech.  Thirdly, 
the  whole  is  supematuralised,  and  affords  a  name  or 
symbol  for  the  region  of  punishment  in  a  future  world. 
Burning  or  smouldering  refuse,  carcases  left  to  the  worm 
or  thrown  on  the  funeral  pyre — such  burial  or  cremation 
prolonged  indefinitely  is  an  emblem  of  never-ending  destruc¬ 
tion.  It  is  thought  that  we  have  this  picture  at  Isaiah 
lxvi.  24,  a  verse  which  recent  criticism  finds  several  reasons 
for  regarding  as  a  late  editorial  addition  to  the  book. 
Dr.  Charles  finds  Gehenna  again  at  Daniel  xii.  2.1  The 
worm  and  the  fire  reappear  before  the  New  Testament 
at  Judith  xvi.  17,  expressly  of  eternal  torment.  ‘  Enoch  ’ 
speaks  of  ‘  the  cursed  valley.’  Gehenna  in  Greek  occurs 
first 2  in  the  New  Testament  references. 

The  educated  reader  need  not  be  cautioned  against 
confusing  hell  as  rendering  of  Hades  or  Sheol  with  hell  as 
Gehenna,  the  place  of  torment.  And  yet  connections 
arise  in  theoXogical  development.  When  ‘  Enoch  ’  offers 
the  first  apocalyptic  visions  of  the  unseen  and  future 
world,  he  introduces  us  to  places  of  provisional  punish¬ 
ment  in  Hades  for  evil  souls — a  quasi-hell  leading  on 

1  In  both  passages  we  have  the  word  demon  ;  perhaps  a  technical  term. 

8  So  far  as  the  writer  knows  or  believes. 

D 


50 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


inevitably  to  the  true  and  never-ending  hell.  Again, 
resurrection  may  be  conceived,  in  one  of  its  forms,  as 
delivering  the  righteous  out  of  Hades  and  leaving  the 
wicked  behind.  It'  is  not  yet  taught  that  the  prison  of 
wicked  angels  1  is  also  the  prison  of  lost  human  souls. 
The  end,  after  the  judgment,  is  conceived  as  a  casting  of 
guilty  angels  and  men  into  a  lake  or  furnace  of  fire  4  pre¬ 
pared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels  ’  (Matt.  xxv.  41).  This 
is  described  at  Revelation  xx.  14  as  the  4  second  death.’ 
The  merciful  thought  of  ultimate  destruction  may  be  con¬ 
tained  as  it  is  certainly  suggested  in  these  words. 

From  these  pictures  of  punishments  projected  into  a 
future  fife  we  turn  to  speak  more  exactly  of  the  con¬ 
comitant  doctrine  of  sin. 

It  hardly  needs  remark  that  the  new  age  confesses  the 
universality  of  sin.  That  confession  stands  as  early  as 

1  Kings  viii.  46 — a  Deuteronomic  passage,  but  assigned 
to  the  period  of  exile  ;  it  is  repeated  of  course  in  the  echo 

2  Chronicles  vi.  36.  In  the  irreligious  orthodoxy  of 
Ecclesiastes — orthodox  according  to  the  standard  of  its 
age — the  admission  again  occurs,  made  with  the  smallest 
possible  trace  of  emotion  (vii.  20). 

A  firmer  dogmatic  basis  is  supplied  to  this  empirical 
generalisation  in  the  recognition  that  death  is  universal, 
coupled  with  the  belief  that  death  is  the  wages  of  sin. 
On  the  whole,  this  is  not  an  Old  Testament  doctrine.  In 
particular,  it  is  not  the  original  meaning  of  Genesis  iii. 
Whatever  the  antecedents  of  that  story,2  it  stands  in  the 
Old  Testament  as  an  explanation  not  of  death  but  of  hard 
‘  labour,’  masculine  and  feminine.  The  threat  of  immediate 
death  is  cancelled  by  divine  indulgence,  in  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  the  serpent  was  guiltiest  and  most  to  be  punished, 
woman  the  next  guiltiest,  man  guilty  only  in  a  minor 

1  Called  at  2  Peter  ii.  4  by  the  classical  name  Tartarus. 

*  W.  R.  Smith  and  others  hold  that  the  serpent  was  originally  a  demon. 


IV.] 


HAMARTIOLOGY  OF  JUDAISM 


51 


degree.  The  cause  of  these  sorrows  is  a  single  act  of  sin ; 
but,  in  the  primitive  document  J,  or  even  in  our  composite 
Book  of  Genesis,  no  great  emphasis  attaches  to  this  first 
sin. 

A  change  must  begin  as  soon  as  the  hope  of  immortality 
asserts  itself.  It  would  be  possible  indeed  to  combine 
immortal  hopes  with  a  persuasion  that  death  is  innocuous. 
Such  a  point  of  view  is  essentially  modern.  In  a  sense — 
on  the  pre-supposition  that  the  innocuousness  of  death 
is  due  to  Christ — it  is  characteristically  Christian.  But 
for  Hebrew  thought  a  different  inference  was  almost  un¬ 
avoidable.  Immortality  being  man’s  claim,  death  ought 
never  to  have  entered  the  world.  Death  was  unnatural. 
It  must  be  penal.  It  is  one  of  the  anomalies  of  history 
that  Sirach,  who  (xxv.  24)  first 1  with  any  clearness  asserts 
that  death  is  penal,  has  not  surrendered  the  old  doc¬ 
trines  of  Sheol  and  of  punishments  and  rewards  in  this 
life  for  any  more  supernatural  conceptions.  Whatever 
merits  he  possessed,  Sirach  was  no  thinker.  He  reinterprets 
Genesis  iii  in  the  light  of  the  spirit  of  his  age  ;  but  he  goes 
no  further  with  the  new  thoughts. 

It  is  possible,  though  scarcely  certain,  that  within 
the  Old  Testament  itself  we  have  reverberations  of  the 
Fall  story  and  of  the  penal  conception  of  death.  Two 
Psalms  claim  to  be  considered — the  Psalms  of  the  Anglican 
Burial  Service,  xxxix  and  xc.  Duhm  recognises  in  both 
of  these  the  dogmatic  reading  of  Genesis  iii.  In  the  case 
of  Psalm  xc,  at  any  rate,  it  is  hard  to  resist  his  conclusion. 
To  argue  that  premature  death  is  peculiarly  in  view  is  to 
do  violence  to  the  language.  A  colder  and  more  prosaic 
reference  to  the  dogmatic  view  of  death  is  probably  to  be 
recognised  in  a  passage  from  the  priestly  historian,  Numbers 
xxvii.  3. 

The  technical  term  6  Fall  ’  2  occurs  at  Wisdom  ix.  1,  but 
with  little  of  the  sombreness  of  later  theology.  Adam 

1  First  among  the  documents  we  possess. 


2  Trap&TTTWfjLa. 


52 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


fell  indeed,  but  wisdom  put  him  on  his  feet  again.  ‘  Fall  ’ 
occurs  again  in  4  Ezra  ;  in  the  Latin  text  the  word  is 
casus.  Later  theology  preferred  lapsus ;  hence  ‘  supra- 
lapsarianism  ’  and  other  terms  of  that  group.1 

A  second  question  regarding  the  Fall  is  whether  Adam’s 
misdeed  affected  nature.  Genesis  iii  in  a  sense  decides 
the  question.  Adam’s  sin  was  the  first  cause  of  weeds  ; 
so  the  story  assures  us.  Sundry  fantastic  and  not  very 
important  enlargements  or  corollaries  of  this  assertion 
occur  in  different  documents  of  Judaism.2  The  most 
dignified  of  all  such  references  is  St.  Paul’s,  at  Romans 
viii.  20.  The  sad  case  of  the  world  which  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes  so  deplores — ‘  vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  ’ 
— was  no  part  of  nature’s  original  constitution,  but  has 
resulted  from  Adam’s  sin.3  Before  that  day,  death  was 
unknown.  Since  that  day,  all  living  creatures  are  subject 
to  the  doom  of  death — until  another  mysterious  hour, 
when  the  sons  of  God  are  to  be  revealed,  and  nature  itself 
will  share  their  redemption. 

Thirdly,  is  there  transmission  of  a  guilty  nature  from 
Adam  and  Eve  to  their  offspring  ?  We  shall  meet  this 
perplexing  problem  once  again  in  connection  with  St.  Paul. 
So  far  as  the  Jewish  mind  is  concerned,  it  certainly 
emphasises  the  connection  of  Adam’s  transgression  with 
the  reign  of  death  through  the  ages  rather  than  with  the 
reign  of  sin.  This  hardly  supports  the  view  that  original 
sin  was  a  pre  -  Christian  doctrine.  There  is  a  possible 
exception  in  the  case  of  the  Apocalypses  of  (the  Syriac) 
Baruch  and  Ezra.  They  are  post-Christian,  but  of  course 
entirely  non-Christian.  Their  new  tone  is  to  be  explained 

1  Why  will  not  scholars  recognise  that  the  first  step  in  elucidating  any 
doctrine  is  to  get  upon  the  track  of  the  words  which  it  stamps  as  technical  ? 
Innumerable  other  steps  must  follow  if  we  are  completely  to  understand — 
so  far  as  we  ever  may— our  predecessors’  thought.  But,  if  we  neglect  the 
study  of  words,  we  never  even  begin  our  task. 

2  An  index  of  references  will  be  found  at  p.  247  of  Dr.  Tennant’s  Fall  and 
Original  Sin. 

3  Whether  the  mrordfas  is  Adam  or  his  God,  or  even  his  tempter,  Adam’s 
sin  is  made  to  rank  as  of  decisive  importance. 


IV.] 


HAMARTIOLOGY  OF  JUDAISM 


53 


not  from  Christian  influences,  but  from  the  tremendous 
blow  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem.  Once  again  calamity 
deepens  the  sense  of  guilt ;  and  speculation  tries  now  to 
grasp  the  whole  terrible  truth.  Still  ‘  Baruch  5  reassures 
himself  that  every  man  is  ‘  the  Adam  of  his  own  soul  * 
(liv.  19).  One  passage  in  his  book  (xlviii.  42,  43)  is  hard 
to  reconcile  with  the  general  strain  of  his  teaching.  Dr. 
Charles  has  recourse  to  the  knife.  He  supposes  inter¬ 
polation.  Dr.  Tennant  hints  hesitatingly  at  inconsist¬ 
ency  in  the  writer’s  thought.  If  that  be  the  solution,  we 
might  have  to  grant  that  Baruch  for  once  teaches  original 
sin.  In  *  Ezra  ’  the  minor  key  sounds  throughout,  more 
even  than  in  Baruch.  Yet  it  appears  probable  that  not 
even  this  dejected  writer 1  holds  that  Adam  has  trans¬ 
mitted  a  tainted  nature.  The  central  doctrine  of  the 
Jewish  schools  in  regard  to  human  corruption  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  evil  yetzer ;  and  it  seems  certain  that 
‘  Ezra  ’  thinks  along  these  lines. 

We  have  therefore  to  turn  to  this  other  formula :  in¬ 
dwelling  sin  as  due  to  the  yetzer  hara  in  the  human  heart. 
The  phrase  is  borrowed  from  Genesis  vi.  5,  viii.  21.  These 
passages  prepare  us  for  a  greater  emphasis  in  Jewish  theology 
upon  inward  evil  in  man  than  upon  inward  good.  Weber’s 
well  -  known  book  on  Talmudic  teaching  seems  to  have 
misled  opinion.  Our  foremost  authority,  Professor  Paton 
of  Yale,  offers  correction  on  two  points.  First,  it  is  not 
true  that  the  Rabbis  habitually  recognise  a  good  yetzer 
alongside  of  the  evil  ‘  seed  in  the  heart.’  Such  co-ordina¬ 
tion  is  late  and  secondary.2  Secondly,  the  Talmud  does 
not  point  to  Adam’s  sin  as  originating  or  even  as  strengthen- 

1  According  to  some  there  are  several  documents  to  disentangle  in 
4  Ezra. 

2  Yet  this  hardly  seems  settled  beyond  question.  Dr.  Tennant  (pp.  116, 
143  note),  finds  two  yetzers  in  the  Testament  of  Asser,  in  the  Slavonic  Enoch, 
and  possibly  at  Sirach  xxxiii.  14,  15,  all  comparatively  early  authorities. 
Could  they  fail  to  affect  some  of  the  Rabbis  ? 


54 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


ing  the  evil  impulse  in  humanity.1  The  Hebrew  frag¬ 
ments  of  Ecclesiastes  show  that  the  word  is  used  by  Sirach, 
and  careful  study  of  many  passages  in  the  book  has  led 
to  the  conclusion  that  sometimes  at  least  the  term  is  as 
technical  with  him  as  with  the  Rabbis.  Plainly,  therefore, 
this  doctrine  is  pre-Christian  and  pre-Pauline. 

In  ‘  Baruch  ’  we  should  seek  for  it  in  vain  2  :  that  apoca- 
lyptist  desires  to  encourage  his  people  rather  than  to 
dwell  upon  depressing  doctrines.  In  4  Ezra  the  case 
is  different.  There  the  doctrine  stands,  and  the  author 
laments  loudly  at  the  thought  of  it ;  but  he  does  not  seem 
to  seek  relief  from  an  ‘  unintelligible  world  ’  by  the  doubtful 
method  used  in  much  Christian  theology — by  extending 
Adam’s  blame  till  it  accounts  for  evil  impulse  and  beyond  all 
question  exonerates  God.  For  all  that  appears,  the  evil 
nature — perhaps  we  should  rather  say  the  tempting  prin¬ 
ciple — ranks  for  Judaism  as  part  of  God’s  original  creation 
of  man. 

Lastly,  we  have  to  note  how  the  theology  of  Judaism 
sums  up  consistently  in  favour  of  freewill  and  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  self-salvation.  In  late  days  this  came  to  be  a 
matter  of  deliberate  choice  as  against  the  Pauline  traditions 
of  Christianity ;  just  as,  in  modern  centuries,  Roman¬ 
ism  loudly  champions  freewill  against  early  Protestant 
orthodoxy.  Perhaps  it  is  true  that  Deuteronomy  and 
Ezekiel,  while  not  strictly  formulating  the  problem,  point 
towards  a  libertarian  solution.  According  to  Josephus,  the 
Sadducees  asserted  freewill  without  any  belief  in  ‘  fate  ’ — 
or  providence  ? — and  the  Pharisees  maintained  it  at  least 
in  certain  cases,  the  Essenes  alone  excluding  it.  Similar 
belief  in  freewill  shows  itself  in  Sirach,  and  again  in  the 
praises  bestowed  upon  ‘  Wisdom  ’  in  the  book  of  that 
name.  The  Psalter  of  Solomon  has  one  important  passage  3 


1  The  last  possibility,  which  Weber  ascribed  to  Talmudic  writers, 
Dr.  Charles  finds  in  4  Ezra.  Others  doubt  Dr.  Charles’s  interpretation. 

2  Even  perhaps  at  xiviii.  42,  43  ;  supra ,  p.  53.  3  lx.  7. 


IV.] 


HAMARTIOLOGY  OF  JUDAISM 


65 


which  either  iterates  and  reiterates  free-will,  or  else,  upon  a 
different  interpretation 1  of  a  contested  reading,  asserts 
freedom  along  with  an  antithetic  assertion  of  divine  pre¬ 
destination,  much  like  a  well  -  known  saying  from  the 
Pirlce  Abolh.  One  peculiarly  impressive  statement  of 
freewill  occurs  in  Philo  ;  it  must  not  be  set  aside  by 
precarious  inferences  based  upon  other  passages.2  The 
Slavonic  Enoch  is  quoted  in  a  similar  sense.3  ‘  Baruch,’ 
as  we  have  already  seen,  throws  the  weight  of  its  emphasis 
upon  this  hopeful  doctrine,  and  even  4  Ezra,  in  defiance 
of  its  own  predispositions,  teaches  that  after  all  man  is 
free.  Logically  or  illogically,  with  or  without  hesitation, 
Judaism  with  hardly  one  dissentient  voice  moves  along 
the  line  of  opinion  which  in  Christianity  we  call  Pelagian. 

Accordingly,  however  intensified  the  gravity  of  sin 
for  the  theologians  of  Judaism,  they  found  counterbalan¬ 
cing  considerations,  and — with  the  possible  exception  of 
4  Ezra  —  made  them  decisive.  Hell  is  in  prospect  for 
vast  numbers  of  human  beings,  but  only  through  the  fault 
of  each  individual. 

1  Noted  as  possible  by  Ryle  and  James.  Other  editors  seem  to  confine 
the  assertion  to  freewill  ;  and  one  may  venture  to  agree  with  the  majority. 

2  Compare  the  discussion  in  Drummond's  Philo,  i.  p.  347. 

3  Compare  Dr.  Tennant,  pp.  143  note,  207  note. 


56 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  Y 

IN  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

‘  The  Christian  Church  sprang  from  a  movement  which 
was  not  begun  by  Christ.’  These  opening  words  of  Ecce 
Homo  remind  us  of  a  figure  whom  wTe  can  by  no  means 
ignore.  If  Jewish  theology  is  among  the  pre-suppositions 
of  Paulinism,  the  Baptist  more  directly  leads  on  to  the 
teaching  of  Christ.  More  than  this  may  be  said.  What¬ 
ever  be  the  origin  of  Christian  baptism — a  somewhat 
perplexed  question  —  we  cannot  wholly  detach  it  from 
John’s  rite.  In  a  sense  therefore  the  Baptist  might  be 
called  the  founder  of  one  of  the  Christian  sacraments. 
It  is  unfortunate  that  we  know  so  little  about  the  detail 
of  his  teaching,  and  that  the  most  of  that  little  comes  to 
us  through  the  Gospels,  with  danger  that  the  Christian 
point  of  view  may  disturb  the  original  meaning.  Still, 
we  may  hope  to  discern  certain  broad  outlines.  The 
eschatological  and  apocalyptic  bias  of  primitive  Chris¬ 
tianity,  to  which  so  much  notice  is  now  being  given,  was 
Johannean  before  it  was  Christian. 

The  Baptist  rises  into  our  notice  1  as  a  successor  of  the 
old  prophets.  This  holds,  it  would  seem,  even  of  externals  ; 
he  wears  the  prophetic  mantle.  What  is  more  important 
is  that  it  holds  of  internal  things.  He  is  a  prophet  on 
the  great  scale,  speaking  with  the  authority  of  God,  and 
claiming  obedience  from  the  nation.  Of  course  he  is 
apocalyptic  as  his  predecessors  were  not.  He  speaks  out 

1  Apart  from  the  striking  but  possibly  legendary  narrative  of  Luke  i. 


v.] 


ST.  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


57 


of  the  clear  belief  in  immortality  and  resurrection,  and  he 
knits  up  that  general  faith  with  an  intenser  supernaturalism 
by  proclaiming  that  final  judgment  is  close  at  hand — not 
through  a  foreign  enemy  or  any  other  working  of  historical 
factors,  but  by  a  sharp  cessation  of  the  way  of  the  world 
and  God’s  immediate  intervention.  All  this  passes  on 
into  the  teaching  of  Christ  and  the  apostles. 

In  this  lurid  light  of  judgment,  one  thing  is  everywhere 
revealed.  Sin  is  at  the  centre  of  the  message.  As  definitely 
as  any  prophet  of  the  days  when  Samaria  or  Jerusalem 
was  tottering  to  its  fall,  John  declares  that  he  is  sent 
by  God  to  a  guilty  people.  The  age-long  discipline  of  the 
law  has  achieved  little  or  nothing  towards  satisfying  this 
moral  censor  or  the  God  for  whom  he  speaks.  Pharisees 
may  hope  to  secure  at  least  an  inner  circle  of  punctually 
obedient  lives,  whose  merit  is  to  win  from  God  the  supreme 
boon  of  the  Messianic  intervention.  John  thinks  differ¬ 
ently,  and  thus  serves  as  a  forerunner  to  the  teaching  of 
Jesus.  In  another  respect  he  anticipates  our  Lord  by 
his  preference  for  conscious  and  confessed  sinners  over 
supposed  saints.  He  attracted  the  multitudes.  He 
cannot  have  incorporated  in  the  circle  of  his  professed 
discijDles  nearly  all  who  were  baptized.  They  came  to 
him  as  sinners,  received  his  rite  with  its  promise  of  forgive¬ 
ness,  then  returned  to  their  ordinary  callings,  there  to 
await  the  crack  of  doom.  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  the 
Baptist  spoke  as  a  later  successor  of  the  great  if  sometimes 
anonymous  prophets,  who  formulated  a  message  of  forgive¬ 
ness.  He  individualises  as  the  prophets  of  ancient  Israel 
could  hardly  have  done.  But,  while  he  sees  sin  resting 
heavily  upon  each  and  all,  he  has  a  promise  of  mercy  for 
every  one  who  repents.  As  the  rites  of  the  lawr  washed 
away  physical  uncleanness,  God  through  John  gives  the 
pledge  of  deliverance  from  the  uncleanness  of  sin. 

The  question  has  been  raised  whether  John’s  baptism 
was  not  in  its  essence  an  eschatological  sacrament,  perhaps 


58 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


even  a  guarantee  of  safety  in  the  coming  judgment  for 
all  who  submitted  to  it.  Whether  we  call  it  a  sacrament 
or  not  may  be  largely  a  question  of  words.  It  was  an 
institution  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  prophets,  and  would  naturally  awaken  curiosity 
and  jealousy  among  the  religious  leaders  of  the  people. 
The  Sadducees  could  not  relish  it.  Pharisee  lawyers 
had  long  elbowed  them  aside  in  popular  estimation,  but 
had  never  interfered  with  priestly  claims — were  even 
zealots  of  the  law ;  now  a  new  religious  rite  was  being 
instituted  in  Israel !  ‘  By  what  authority  ?  ’  Yet  the 

people  were  convinced  that  John  was  a  prophet,  and  it 
did  not  do  to  break  with  the  people.  It  is  credible  that 
even  Sadducees  should  have  come  to  John’s  baptism. 

Had  John  not  lived  in  an  age  of  sacraments,  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  would  have  clenched  his  teachings  by  a 
new  external  observance.  In  his  own  land,  with  what¬ 
ever  differences,  the  Essenes  had  accustomed  men  to  the 
thought  of  gmi.s»-sacramental  washings.  Even  more  re¬ 
semblance  might  exist  between  John’s  baptism,  given  as 
it  was  once  for  all,  and  the  usages  practised  when  a  proselyte 
was  received  into  Judaism.  And  yet  the  Baptist’s  message 
and  ordinance  contained  something  generically  novel.  John 
baptizes  those  who  repent,  just  because  he  is  an  eschato¬ 
logical  herald.  The  man  who  has  seen  the  Judge  drawing 
near  has  authority  to  impose  a  new  rite. 

But,  when  we  are  asked  to  regard  John’s  baptism  as 
intended  to  guarantee  salvation,  belief  is  impossible.  This 
is  a  peculiarly  pungent  moralist.  Did  he  propose  to  heal 
the  spiritual  hurt  of  his  people  so  slightly,  with  a  bath  ? 
John  passes  sentence  upon  the  whole  dispensation  of  the 
old  covenant.  It  has  resulted  not  in  a  cleansed  or  con¬ 
secrated  but  in  a  guilty  people — as  far  from  God  as  the 
despised  *  sinners  of  the  Gentiles.’ 1  Did  he  think  that  a 
new  rite  was  the  appropriate  remedy  ?  Again,  his  baptism 

1  Is  this  the  reference  at  Matt.  iii.  9  (Luke  in.  8)? 


V.] 


ST.  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


59 


is  a  mere  preliminary.  The  real  baptism,  however  we 
interpret  it,  is  to  be  administered  by  higher  hands.  Once 
again  :  the  great  successor  of  John  is  to  exercise  judgment. 
It  is  his  fan  that  is  to  separate  wheat  from  chaff.  Could  a 
forerunner  anticipate  that  office  ?  Those  who  came  to 
John’s  baptism  took  the  right  step,  and  turned  their  faces 
towards  God’s  salvation.  Only  God  or  His  Anointed 
could  guarantee  salvation  itself  ;  only  at  the  judgment 
could  that  guarantee  be  given.  Assurances  in  advance 
were  impossible.  Least  of  all  could  externals  avail  to 
make  men  secure.1 

Christian  teaching,  credibly  ascribed  to  our  Lord  Him¬ 
self,  recognises  John  as  the  promised  Elijah.  This  was  an 
expectation  that  might  have  been  created  for  the  purposes 
of  Christian  apologetic.  Elijah  is  looked  for — and  John 
has  duly  appeared ;  a  great  one,  but  with  a  subordinate 
greatness.  The  chief  Christian  perplexity  may  be  the 
assertion  that  the  Baptist  declined  the  identification.2 
Perhaps  this  was  part  of  John’s  recoil  from  the  defects  of 
his  age.  Other  prophetic  minds  of  that  day  wore  the  mask 
of  some  man  of  older  times,  and  slipped  into  circulation 
a  book  bearing  his  name.  John  was  John — no  ghost 
stealing  back  to  earth,  but  a  living  man  conveying  a  message 
of  present  urgency  from  the  living  God. 

With  perverse  ingenuity,  Albert  Schweitzer  has  suggested 
that  John  was  looking  forward  to  the  real  Elijah,  and  that 
his  message  to  Jesus  (Matt,  xi,  Luke  vii)  meant,  not 
Are  you  Christ  ?  but  Are  you  Elijah  ?  Verbally,  ‘  the 
coming  one  ’  might  point  to  either  of  the  two  great  figures. 
But,  on  Schweitzer’s  own  admission,  the  answer  sent  by 
Jesus  conveys  no  meaning  at  all  if  it  is  taken  as  a  reply 
to  the  question  6  Are  you  Elijah  ?  ’  And,  if  either  predicted 
personage  could  slip  out  of  the  Baptist’s  eschatological 

1  Thus  far  the  early  Christian  assertion  maybe  true,  that  John’s  baptism 
did  not  convey  forgiveness. 

2  John  i.  21,  supported  by  silence  elsewhere. 


GO 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


programme,  it  was  easier  for  the  Elijah  Redivivus  to 
disappear  than  for  the  Christ.  St.  John  could  hardly 
be  so  heretical  a  theologian  or  so  critical  a  scholar  as  to 
challenge  belief  in  the  Messiah.  All  the  contemporary 
Jewish  world,  founding  upon  scriptures  which  he  rever¬ 
enced  as  much  as  any,  held  that  God’s  supreme  and  final 
intervention  must  take  place  through  a  Messianic  king. 

In  one  of  our  Gospels  we  have  a  sermon  of  John’s  (Luke 
iii.  10-14)  dealing  with  details  of  moral  duty.  If  we  may 
accept  this  record  as  historical,  we  find  it  surprisingly 
moderate  in  its  claims.  The  teacher  whom  it  reveals  has 
nothing  of  the  fanatic  about  him.  Soldiers  are  still  per¬ 
mitted  to  be  soldiers  ;  the  very  tax-gatherer  may  con¬ 
tinue  to  gather  taxes — honestly.  Only  the  superfluities 
of  fife  are  to  be  unsparingly  cut  down  for  the  relief  of  the 
poor.  Such  teaching  contains  few  stones  of  stumbling. 
It  has  no  trace  of  the  searching  moral  originality  of  Jesus, 
or  of  His  daring  paradoxes.  In  these  homely  details, 
John  appears  as  the  moderate  and  Jesus  as  the  extremist. 

It  remains  to  say  something  regarding  the  relations  of 
this  remarkable  man  to  Jesus. 

Our  Gospels  tell  us  with  a  scarcely  qualified  unanimity  1 
that  Jesus  was  baptized  by  John.  We  shall  have  to  speak 
in  our  next  chapter  of  the  significance  of  the  event  in  the 
life  of  our  Lord  ;  here  we  must  study  the  fact  as  it  concerns 
the  Baptist.  If  we  believe  the  testimony  of  the  Gospels, 
that  Jesus  had  a  special  experience  of  God  at  the  time, 
and  if  we  further  believe  that  John  was  God’s  true  prophet, 
it  will  seem  natural  and  probable  that  John  should  have 
had  some  inkling  of  what  passed.  And  such  prophetic 
insight  will  explain,  as  nothing  else  can,  John’s  subsequent 
message  to  Jesus. 

But  before  we  draw  our  conclusions,  we  have  to  face 

1  John’s  gospel  does  not  say  so  explicitly,  but  is  most  naturally  inter¬ 
preted  as  presupposing  the  event. 


V.] 


ST.  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


61 


the  radical  hypothesis,  that  the  baptism  of  Jesus  is  legend 
and  not  fact.  Is  such  invention  conceivable  ?  Was  it 
not  awkward  for  Christianity,1  so  long  as  John’s  disciples 
had  any  separate  organised  existence,  to  have  to  admit 
that  the  lesser  master  had  baptized  the  greater  ?  Might 
it  not  even  seem  to  rank  Jesus  as  a  sinner  ?  Again,  how 
could  Jesus  fail  to  contemplate  and  consider  submitting 
Himself  to  baptism  ?  He  could  not  be  indifferent  to 
John’s  work.  He  could  not  be  neutral.  For  Him  it  was 
plainly  ‘  from  heaven.’  In  the  end  it  must  have  been 
revealed  to  Him  as  God’s  will  that  He  also  should  be 
baptized  by  the  prophet.2 

When  Jesus  began  to  teach,  His  message,  irrespectively 
of  the  veiled  implication  of  Messiahship,  differentiated 
itself  promptty  in  several  respects  from  that  of  the  pre¬ 
decessor  whose  words  it  so  often  reiterated.  First  of  all, 
it  is  surely  significant  that  the  teaching  of  Jesus  made 
itself  felt  as  good  news.  There  was  plenty  to  suggest  this 
in  the  Old  Testament,  notably  in  2  Isaiah  and  in  kindred 
Psalms.  But  the  Baptist  was  out  of  tune  with  such 
joyfulness.  We  can  hardly  imagine  any  one  describing 
John’s  preaching  as  the  gospel  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
Such  Old  Testament  gospels,  like  many  of  the  great 
messages  of  Old  Testament  scripture,  lived  anewr  in 
more  than  their  former  power  in  the  teaching  of  Christ. 
Again,  we  are  told  that  the  disciples  of  John  like  those 
of  the  Pharisees  fasted,  but  not  the  disciples  of 

1  Matt.  iii.  14,  15,  whether  historical  fact  or  legendary  accretion,  may 
serve  as  a  proof. 

2  Jewish  theology  expected  Elijah  to  anoint  the  Messiah.  But  there  is 
no  hint  of  that  motive  in  the  New  Testament.  It  is  God  who  ‘  anoints  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  power.’ 

It  does  not  seem  possible  to  vindicate  as  historical  the  statement  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel,  that  the  Baptist  described  Jesus  as  the  Lamb  of  God  who 
should  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world.  That  is  the  theology  of  the  Christian 
Johannine  school ;  compare  1  John  iii.  5.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  Gospel 
of  John  to  ignore  historical  perspectives,  and  to  discover  the  highest  truths 
at  the  very  first  moment  when  an  instalment  of  truth  is  broached.  In  this 
instance  the  Baptist  is  credited  with  the  loftiest  view  of  the  death  of  Jesus 
which  the  whole  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  contains. 


62 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Jesus.1  Jesus  Himself  contrasts  the  manner  of  His  coming, 
4  eating  and  drinking,’  with  the  appearance  of  John,  ‘  neither 
eating  nor  drinking.’  While  the  one  teaching  distils  essential 
gloom,  the  other  breathes  essential  joy.  Was  it  not  the 
thought  of  God  that  made  the  difference  ?  When  ye 
pray,  say  Father.  John  with  all  his  greatness  could  not 
have  spoken  these  simple  words. 

It  fell  to  John  in  his  ‘  way  of  righteousness  ’  to  rebuke 
the  vice  of  Herod  Antipas  and  Herodias.  Their  alarm 
and  indignation  relieved  the  Jewish  leaders  of  the  task  of 
dealing  with  John.  He  passed  into  imprisonment,  and 
was  not  allowed  to  emerge  alive.  From  prison  2  he  sent 
to  ask  Jesus,  having  heard  of  *  the  works  of  the  Christ,’ 
‘  Art  thou  he  that  should  come  ?  or  must  we  look  for 
another  ?  ’  The  unspoken  request  can  hardly  be  missed. 
If  thou  art  king,  rescue  this  thy  servant  ! 

It  is  supposed  by  some  that  this  was  dawning  faith. 
Mighty  works  such  as  Jesus  was  doing  suggested  the  possi¬ 
bility  that  Jesus  was  the  destined  king.  The  underlying 
presupposition  would  be,  His  coming  must  be  very  very  near. 
Yet  it  hardly  seems  as  if  anything  heard  about  Jesus  or 
His  miracles  could  have  suggested  such  faith  to  the 
Baptist’s  mind  for  the  first  time.  Nor  does  Jesus’  answer 
seem  what  we  must  expect  if  He  was  in  the  presence  of 
so  sacred  and  delicate  a  thing  as  dawning  faith. 

On  the  other  construction  everything  tallies.  John 
had  shared  the  paradox  of  faith — here  is  the  king  !  After 
a  time  he  hears  of  Jesus  ;  doing  what  ?  Preaching.  Now, 
himself  a  prisoner,  he  hears  not  of  preaching  alone  but 
more  and  more  of  mighty  works.  He  had  done  no  such 
signs.3  Why  may  the  works  not  avail  for  his  help  in  his 
great  need  ?  Why  should  God’s  king  let  wickedness 
thrive  unchecked  ?  Apt  reply  is  given  in  quotations 

1  Can  the  fine  sentence  Mark  ii.  20  (and  parallels)  be  a  piece  of  early  Church 
theology  ?  Compare  the  standardising  of  fasting  in  the  Didache. 

2  So  Matthew  (xi)  asserts,  and  Luke  (vii)  permits. 

3  So  John  x.  41  and  the  general  argument  e  silentio . 


V.] 


ST.  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


63 


from  Old  Testament  prophecy  which  describe  Jesus’  dis¬ 
tinctive  Messianic  mission  ;  in  the  appeal  for  a  faith  that 
will  not  4  stumble  ’  ;  and  perhaps  in  the  gentle  condem¬ 
nation  which  such  an  appeal  implies,  and  which  tends  to 
counterpoise  the  immense  praise  of  J ohn  addressed  to  the 
multitude. 


64 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  THE  LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 

If  Christian  faith  is  justified  in  essentials,  the  relation  of 
Jesus  to  sin  cannot  be  studied  wholly  within  the  teaching 
He  gives.  We  must  seek  to  divine  His  personal  experi¬ 
ence.  And,  high  as  such  experience  ranks  in  a  Jeremiah 
or  a  St.  Paul,  it  must  rank  still  higher  when  it  meets  us 
in  the  Son  of  God. 

This  does  not  mean  that  we  are  to  impose  on  the  teach¬ 
ing  of  the  Master  foregone  conclusions  regarding  His 
person.  In  the  last  resort  we  can  accept  nothing 
regarding  Christ  or  salvation  which  is  not  guaranteed 
by  Christ’s  own  words.  And  we  must  follow  these 
words  wherever  they  lead.  In  particular,  we  must  deal 
frankly  with  the  eschatological  and  apocalyptic  elements 
in  the  thought  of  Christ.  Very  probably  discussion 
in  the  end  will  establish  little  or  nothing  new  regarding 
central  things.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  light  of  the  world 
has  been  lost  to  us  by  misapprehension  of  certain  strange 
time-conditions  under  which  that  light  shone  forth,  still 
less  that  He  will  cease  to  be  our  light  when  the  time- 
conditions  are  allowed  for.  Yet  it  is  our  duty  and  (as  duty 
is  wont  to  be)  our  highest  interest  to  search  this  matter  to 
the  bottom.  The  barrenness  of  much  writing  upon 
Christ’s  doctrine  of  the  Kingdom  is  probably  due  to  a 
false  varnish  of  modernity  in  the  interpreters.  Those 
whom  the  eschatological  view  has  intoxicated  may  exag¬ 
gerate  quite  as  badly  ;  no  matter,  we  cannot  evade  the 


VI.] 


LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 


65 


subject.  And,  as  things  at  present  stand,  even  a  brief 
monograph  upon  a  single  theological  topic  must  define  its 
own  attitude  upon  questions  of  the  life  of  Jesus. 

Regarding  our  Lord’s  early  years  we  have  as  good  as  no 
information ;  two  divergent  accounts  of  birth  and  in¬ 
fancy  ;  one  anecdote  of  great  beauty  in  Luke  ii.  When 
Jesus  passes  into  the  circle  of  light  He  is  a  man  (Luke  iii. 
23),  attracted  like  so  many  others  by  the  Baptist  and 
submitting  to  the  Baptist’s  rite.  Immediately  on  this 
follows  the  narrative  of  temptation.  It  in  turn  is  quickly 
followed  by  the  beginning  of  a  public  ministry.  We  have 
to  ask  what  can  be  inferred  from  this  combination  of  facts 
— Baptism,  Temptation,  Preaching. 

We  have  already  given  reasons  for  holding  that  the 
baptism  of  Jesus  by  John  is  history  and  not  legend.  Here 
let  us  add  that  the  Temptation-narrative  reinforces  our 
conclusion.  It  is  hard  for  Christians  to  accept  the 
thought  that  Jesus  did  not  know  His  Messiahship  till  so 
advanced  an  hour.  He  has  been  supposed  1  to  have  per 
ceived  His  sinlessness,  and  to  have  inferred  even  in  youth 
the  truth  of  His  essential  Divine  Sonship.  Or  He  is  sup¬ 
posed  2  to  have  been  conscious  of  Divine  Sonship  as  earlv 
as  He  was  humanly  conscious  at  all.  Yet  the  Baptism 
narrative  clearly  implies  that  Jesus  had  previously  been 
unself-conscious — unaware  of  Messiahship,  and  a  fortiari 
of  sinlessness  and  of  unique  divinity.  Here  the  Tempta¬ 
tion-narrative  speaks  its  confirmation.  Had  Jesus  been 
previously  ready  for  His  ministry,  there  would  seem 
to  be  no  special  point  at  which  temptation  could  assail 
Him.  But,  if  unsuspected  truth  has  burst  upon  Him, 
His  first  need  is  to  face  His  task  in  solitude.  He  emerges 
again  with  a  clearly  defined  programme,  i.e.  with  definite 
assurance  what  is  and  what  is  not  God’s  will  for  Him. 

1  So  B.  Weiss,  Life  of  Christ,  tr.  i.  p.  302. 

2  So  Dr.  Stalker,  but  not  without  hesitation. 


66  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

Such  an  account  of  the  development  of  events  is  self- 
consistent  and  impressive.1 

On  the  other  hand,  some  critical  students  decline  to 
make  room  for  Messianic  consciousness  in  the  mind  of 
Jesus  so  early  as  this,  if  at  all.  Little  as  we  may  relish 
the  task,  we  must  try  to  understand  how  things  shape 
upon  these  presuppositions.  Jesus  then,  we  are  told,  is 
not  said  to  discover  His  Messiahship  but  to  become  Messiah 
by  the  descent  of  a  divine  potency.  The  whole  is  early 
Church  theology,  yielding  no  light  as  to  the  development 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Not  less  unhistorical,  they  add,  is 
the  Temptation.  Its  narrative  makes  use  of  old  traditional 
material,  some  of  it  perhaps  mythical,  parallel  to,  possibly 
influenced  by,  the  legend  of  the  Buddha’s  temptation. 
There  is  not  even  a  nucleus  of  fact.  The  circumstance 
that  two  narratives — Baptism  and  Temptation — support 
each  other  is  a  pure  accident,  significant  of  nothing.  Jesus 
(they  continue)  began  to  preach  when  John  was  put  in 
prison.  He  could  not  bear  that  the  work  of  heralding 
the  approaching  judgment  should  be  hampered.  Uno 
avulso  non  deficit  alter  ;  God’s  work  was  to  go  on,  and  that 
upon  a  grander  scale  than  if  it  must  fall  into  the  weak 
hands  of  John’s  disciples.  Jesus  the  prophet  was  just 
John  the  prophet,  repeated  with  modifications.  His 
Messiahship,  if  He  ever  believed  in  it,  was  a  precarious 
and  questionable  afterthought.  Possibly  the  Master 
accepted  the  programme  from  Simon  Peter.  It  was  con¬ 
ceivable  !  He  might  prove  to  be  Messiah  Himself  ! 

To  this  one  replies  that  honest  study  of  the  Gospels 


1  We  assume  the  originality  of  the  record  in  Mark  and  Luke — even 
Matthew  has  traces  of  it :  ‘  Thou  art,’  not,  as  at  the  Transfiguration,  ‘This  is 
[my  Son].’  We  further  assume  the  significant  combination  of  the  Messianic 
Psalm  ii  with  the  first  of  the  Servant  passages,  Isa.  xlii.  1.  ‘  This  day  I  have 
begotten  thee,’  read  by  some  text  authorities  in  Luke,  might  mean,  as  in  the 
Psalm,  ‘I  hereby  adopt  thee.’  But  is  it  not  the  commonest  of  all  errors  in 
quotation  to  carry  a  quotation  too  far  ?  While,  if  Adoptionism  possessed 
adherents  in  the  early  Church,  theological  bias  might  concur  to  create  the 
unfortunate  reading. 


VI.] 


LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 


67 


shows  Messianic  consciousness  everywhere  underlying 
Christ’s  words  and  acts.  Of  the  radical  critics,  some  have 
room  for  the  great  moral  prophet  but  not  the  Christ. 
Others  have  room  for  the  apocalyptic  herald,  perhaps  the 
apocalyptic  Christ,  but  not  for  the  prophet  who  repre¬ 
sents  God  to  the  conscience.  The  Christian  Church 
rightly  stands  for  both.  Jesus  is  prophet  indeed,  but 
Jesus  is  also  Lord.  The  apocalyptic  element  is  no  mere 
antiquarian  curiosity,  even  to-day.  To  His  own  thought 
Jesus  belongs  to  a  higher  order  than  that  of  earth. 

Reaffirming  our  acceptance  of  the  narratives,  we  next 
ask  :  How  could  Jesus,  being  what  faith  declares  Him, 
and  what  He  learned  at  baptism  that  He  was — how  could 
He  be  unconscious  of  His  uniqueness  through  youth  and 
up  to  full  manhood  ?  It  is  a  partial  answer  that  Jesus 
was  clothed  in  humility,  and  therefore  more  conscious  of 
God  than  of  self.  A  further  if  less  inward  answer  may 
be  found  in  the  eschatological  prepossessions  of  the  age. 
What  if  Jesus  Himself  had  thought  of  the  Messiah  as  one 
who  was  to  descend  from  the  clouds  ?  Impossible,  if  so, 
to  ask,  ‘  Can  I  be  He  ?  ’  We  may  claim  to  call  this  not 
error  but  natural  human  limitation.  Under  the  shelter  of 
this  belief,  J esus  could  walk  with  God  till  He  was  ready  for 
the  stupendous  task  and  unspeakable  revelation :  ‘  Thou  art 
my  Son  !  * 

But  further :  How  could  the  young  Jesus,  if  indeed  wholly 
pure  from  sin,  fail  to  reflect  on  that  radical  difference  from 
all  others  ?  Here  we  may  adduce  another  consideration. 
Christ  was  no  theologian  of  the  Pauline  type.  His  thought 
does  not  oscillate  between  the  two  poles  of  sin  and  grace. 
Had  that  been  true  of  Him,  the  question  would  have  been 
unescapable.  He  must  very  early  have  detected  sin 
within  Himself — or  else  have  stood  out  conspicuously  to 
His  own  thought  as  sinless.  There  is  a  grain  of  truth  in 
the  Unitarian  view  of  Jesus  as  a  once-born  soul  in  contrast 
to  the  twice-born  or  ‘  sick.’  While  not  the  only  repre- 


(58 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


sentative,  He  is  the  highest  type  of  those  pure  in  heart, 
who,  whether  here  or  hereafter,  see  God.  We  may  believe 
that  the  experience  of  sin,  confession,  forgiveness  passed 
Him  by.  It  was  scriptural  and  divine,  but  there  was  no 
need  for  Him  to  reach  God  along  that  path.  He  who 
taught  the  world  to  call  God  Father  knew  the  Father  as 
soon  as  He  knew  anything. 

This  difficult  element  in  religion,  the  element  of  sin, 
must  have  pressed  more  sharply  on  His  notice  when  He 
heard  of  the  new  prophet  with  his  gospel  of  repentance 
and  his  cleansing  rite  to  enforce  it.  John  and  baptism 
were,  He  felt  sure,  from  God,  yet  His  attitude  may  have 
been  not  unlike  what  is  imputed  to  Him  at  Matthew  iii. 
15 — a  clear  persuasion  of  duty,  unaccompanied  by  any 
personal  inward  need.1 

And  then  the  revelation :  of  sinfulness  in  all  others,  of 
spotless  purity  in  Himself.  This  moment  explains  every¬ 
thing.  The  absence  of  a  sinner’s  craving  to  be  cleansed 
is  no  defect  in  Him,  but  the  mark  of  His  supreme  endow¬ 
ment  as  the  beloved  in  whom  God  is  well  pleased.  The 
religion  of  Jesus,  through  long  years  an  unself  conscious 
thought  of  God,  becomes  henceforth  two-sided — God  as 
Father,  Himself  as  Son.  The  discovery  of  sinlessness  is 
enclosed  within  a  greater  and  more  positive  consciousness 
— that  of  Sonship.  And  Sonship  is  neither  metaphysical 
(as  in  later  theology)  nor  official  (as  in  Jewish  Messianic 
and  half- Jewish  Adoptionism).  It  is  personal  and  moral. 
Supreme  and  unique  in  Jesus,  it  may  yet  be  shared  by 
all.  By  a  sharp  paradox  of  faith  He,  consciously  man  in 
every  fibre,  knows  Himself  the  world’s  Saviour  and  Judge. 
How  He  must  act  is  to  be  decided  under  sore  temptation. 
Meantime  God  has  ordered  that  the  sinless  one  should 
be  finked  with  sinners  in  a  rite  which  they  plainly  need 
but  which  for  His  own  sake  could  mean  nothing  to  Him. 

1  We  might  also  compare  the  saying  imputed  to  Jesus  in  the  Gospel  of  the 
Hebrews. 


VI.] 


LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 


69 


We  have  next  to  speak  of  the  public  teaching  of  Jesus 
on  the  doctrine  of  sin. 

The  starting  point  is  one  of  close  perhaps  1  verbal  con¬ 
tact  with  the  Baptist.  Jesus  also  demands  repentance 
in  the  light  of  the  great  catastrophe  which  is  at  hand. 
He  seals  as  His  own  whatever  John  has  implied  about  the 
inadequacy  of  the  law’s  observances,  about  the  heathenish 
pollution  of  Israel,  about  the  terrors  of  judgment.  Uni¬ 
versal  sinfulness  is  the  keynote  of  His  first  message. 

But  we  have  seen  already  that  there  are  contrasts  as 
well  as  kinships  between  John  and  Jesus,  and  in  Jesus 
for  the  first  time  we  find  the  note  of  a  present  forgiveness. 
It  is  true  that  the  saying  stands  on  record  in  only  two 
narratives ;  it  is  even  true  that  the  proposal  has  been 
made  2  to  shorten  the  wonderful  narrative  of  Luke  vii. 
36-50  by  omitting  the  two  theological  verses  at  the  close. 
But  we  may  feel  certain  that  the  atmosphere  of  forgive¬ 
ness  radiated  from  Jesus  like  sunshine.  The  happiness 
which  made  it  impossible  to  fast  was  not  confined  to  the 
righteous  who  needed  no  repentance.  It  was  closely 
finked  with  the  knowledge  of  God  as  Father  ;  yet  our  one 
narrative  from  the  Triple  Tradition  finks  it  closer  still  with 
the  personal  authority  of  Jesus.  At  this  early  date,  and 
before  so  large  a  gathering,  the  title  ‘  Son  of  Man  ’  may  be 
used  exoterically.  ‘  A  man  on  earth  has  the  right  to 
forgive  ’ — that  was  His  reply  to  fault-finding  theologians. 
Only  for  Himself — or  for  an  initiated  disciple-soul  ? — would 
the  further  meaning  emerge  :  One  Son  of  Man  can  forgive 
— the  destined  Lord  !  8 

1  So  St.  Matthew. 

2  By  J.  Weiss.  Not  in  mere  caprioe,  whether  convincingly  or  un¬ 
convincingly. 

3  It  has  been  held  that  Jesus,  who  healed  as  well  as  forgave  the  man, 
accommodated  Himself  to  Old  Testament  ways  of  thinking,  according  to 
which  disease  is  penal  and  forgiveness  must  be  sealed  by  recovery.  Have 
we  not  faith  enough  in  Jesus  to  accept  the  connection  of  this  man’s  paralysis 
with  real  sins?  Let  us  remember,  too,  that  Jesus  spoke  the  word  of 
forgiveness  (and  assuredly  was  believed  !)  before  He  said  anything  about 
healing. 


70 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Here,  then,  the  teaching  of  Jesus  breaks  through  eschato¬ 
logical  limitations.  He  speaks  now  not  merely  of  impend¬ 
ing  judgment  or  impending  redemption  but  of  a  redemption 
whose  blessed  ministries  are  actually  at  work.  This  fact 
is  not  isolated.  Leaders  of  the  eschatological  school  have 
dwelt  upon  the  value  of  Christ’s  healings  to  His  own 
faith.  Having  defeated  Satan  at  the  temptation,  He 
was  now  destroying  Satan’s  evil  works  in  detail  (Mark 
iii.  27  and  parallels).  The  admission  is  sound  ;  and  yet 
the  revelation  of  forgiveness  surely  stands  higher  still. 
Forgiveness  comes  first  and  ranks  as  best,  whatever  kind 
tokens  may  accompany  it.  So  long  as  God  in  J esus  Christ 
forgives  us,  the  heart  and  soul  of  Christianity  remains 
intact.  Behold  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  God 
himself  will  be  their  God. 

We  said  already,  in  discussing  the  inner  history  of 
Christ’s  baptism,  that  our  Lord  was  not  a  Pauline  hamarti- 
ologist.  This  may  be  verified  again  from  His  teaching. 
He  is  a  hamartiologist.  He  believes  in  universal  sinful¬ 
ness,  and  teaches  it  explicitly  as  well  as  by  His  call  to 
repentance.  ‘  Ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts 
to  your  children.’  But  while  St.  Paul  makes  the  hamarti- 
ological  dogma  dominant,  Christ  approaches  men,  if  with 
the  dogma  of  impending  judgment,  certainly  also  with 
the  faith  of  God’s  Fatherhood.  If  Paul  speaks  to  sinners 
as  such,  Jesus  speaks  to  man  as  man.  He  may  seem  to 
subvert  much  theology  when  He  asks :  Why  callest  thou  me 
good  ?  None  is  good  but  one,  that  is,  God.  Assuredly  we 
have  here  one  supreme  proof  of  Jesus’  goodness,  in  His 
shrinking  from  light-minded  ascription  of  it.  He  counted 
it  not  a  prize  to  be  on  an  equality  with  God.  Therefore  also  God 
highly  exalted  Him,  and  gave  unto  him  the  name  which  is 
above  every  name.  But  we  must  grant  too  that,  for  a  piety 
like  that  which  speaks  in  these  words,  the  very  distinc¬ 
tion  between  sin-stained  and  sinless,  between  incomplete 
development  and  wayward  wandering — to  say  nothing 


VI.] 


LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 


71 


of  the  contrast  between  great  sinners  and  those  less 
guilty — threatens  to  lose  importance.  In  presence  of 
God’s  archetypal  perfection,  what  other  goodness  deserves 
the  name  ? 

One  important  phase  of  our  Lord’s  teaching  in  regard 
to  sin  might  be  brought  into  connection  with  John’s 
cleansing  rite.  Sin  is  defilement,  and,  according  to  our 
Lord,  the  only  real  defilement.1  Here  a  long  development 
comes  to  its  fit  conclusion.  And  here  renewed  evidence 
is  given  us  how  serious  an  estimate  of  sin  Jesus  formed. 

A  conception  peculiar  to  our  Lord  Himself  is  that  of 
the  evil  generation  to  which  He  came.  The  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  spoke  much  of  national  responsibility.  Christ  holds 
to  this  belief ;  for  as  Messiah  He  limits  Himself  to  Israel, 
though  Gentiles  were  to  ‘  come  from  the  East  and  West  ’  2 
in  order  ultimately  to  enter  His  kingdom.3  There  is  no 
need  to  add  that  Christ  was  full  of  mercy  for  individual 
sinners,  especially  those  furthest  from  God  and  from  hope. 
And  yet,  apart  from  happy  exceptions,  He  has  a  vision 
of  collective  destiny  and  doom  for  the  generation  He 
addresses.  Supremely  favoured,  not  alone  by  His  pre¬ 
sence  but  by  mighty  works  that  might — nay,  would — 
have  brought  to  repentance  Gentile  cities  whose  names 
were  a  byword  for  sin,  this  generation  incurred  supreme 
guilt  and  corresponding  penalty. 

One  manifestation  of  evil  quality  in  the  men  of  the  age 
was  the  demand  for  a  great  sign,  or,  as  some  passages  say, 
for  a  sign  ‘  from  heaven.’  This  gives  us  the  clue  to  the 
meaning  of  the  demand.  They  wanted  grandiose  apoca- 

1  Mark  vii ;  Matt.  xv.  Probably  B.  Weiss  is  right ;  it  is  a  parable  of 
bodily  processes  which,  according  to  Old  Testament  law,  caused  defilement. 
*  How  strange  to  think  that  defilement  is  incurred  not  by  anything  coming 
from  without  but  by  what  comes  from  within  ourselves.’  The  meaning,  of 
course,  is  :  What  comes  from  the  heart  defiles.  Where  Paul  says  ‘flesh,’ 
Jesus,  like  the  Rabbis,  says  ‘heart.’ 

2  Isa.  ii.  2,  3  (  =  Micah  iv.  1,  2)  ? 

3  Had  Jesus  definitely  commanded  missions  to  Gentiles,  the  matter  could 
hardly  have  grown  into  a  vexed  problem  during  the  apostolic  age. 


72 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[on. 


lyptic  proofs.  We  should  err  greatly  if  we  accepted  the 
radical  dogma  that  Jesus  disbelieved  in  miracles.  It  was 
for  Him  an  age  in  which  anything  might  happen.  The  line 
between  earth  and  heaven  was  disappearing  in  a  glow  of 
light.  Wonders  were  actually  being  done  which  filled 
His  mind  with  thankfulness.  Had  the  people  but  been 
worthy  (‘  0  faithless  generation  ’),  what  would  have  been 
too  great  for  man  to  ask  or  for  God  to  bestow  ? 

In  Canon  E.  R.  Bernard’s  interesting  article  ‘  Sin  ’  1 
three  denunciations  of  sin  by  our  Lord  are  noted — an 
attack  on  hypocrisy,  a  doctrine  of  scandal  or  the  sin  of 
misleading  others,  and  the  terrible  mystery  of  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  last — in  contrast  with 
Pauline  emphasis  on  sin  as  uniform  because  universal — 
shows  our  Lord  taking  sides  with  doctrines  which  conceive 
of  sin  as  growing  from  less  to  more.  It  is  only  fair  to  add 
that  the  doctrine  has  also  an  eschatological  background. 
The  sin  denounced  is  contemptuous  rejection  of  God’s 
last  and  highest  gift.  There  is  a  horror  like  Hosea’s  in 
Christ’s  vision  of  this  sin.  They  did  not  merely  reject 
one  in  the  garb  of  man  ;  they  knew,  and  they  vexed  with 
rebellion,  God’s  Holy  Spirit. 

Lastly,  we  have  to  ask  what  we  learn  regarding  Christ’s 
thought  of  sin  from  His  utterances  regarding  His  death. 

Mark,  followed  by  the  other  Synoptics,  tells  us  that 
Jesus  three  several  times  foretold  His  passion.  No  weight 
is  to  be  put  on  the  figure  three.  What  is  meant  is  that 
the  teaching  was  deliberate  and  reiterated.  Many  radi¬ 
cal  critics  call  the  whole  record  vaticinium  post  eventum. 
That  might  be  plausible  if  there  were  no  corroboration 
elsewhere,  as  in  the  scornful  message  to  Herod  £  the  fox  ’ : 
£  It  cannot  be  that  a  prophet  perish  out  of  Jerusalem.’ 
Even  more  completely  beyond  the  reach  of  invention  is 
our  Lord’s  impatient  sigh  when  told  the  disciples  ‘  could 

1  In  Dr.  Hastings’  Dictionary  of  the  Bible. 


Vi.j 


LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 


73 


not  ’  help  the  epileptic  boy  (Mark  ix.  19).  He  divined 
His  destiny  from  the  Baptist’s  fate  ;  from  the  pattern  of 
Old  Testament  prophets ;  from  the  Scriptures — surely 
from  Isaiah  liii  most  of  all.  He  had  read  that,  all  His 
days  ;  could  it  fail  to  teach  Him  that  He  must  die  ?  He 
shrank  from  death — doubtless  !  The  sacrifice  would  have 
meant  less  had  it  not  cost  such  ‘  strong  crying.’  But 
amid  inevitable  shrinking  and  dismay  His  will  was  reso¬ 
lutely  loyal. 

The  first  of  the  three  Passion  announcements  has  special 
importance  from  its  connection  with  Peter’s  confession. 
According  to  Matthew,  Jesus  passed  a  eulogium  on  Peter’s 
God-given  wisdom.  According  to  Mark  there  was  no 
praise  but  a  prohibition :  ‘  Hush  !  that  is  not  to  be  spoken 
of  !  ’  It  has  been  reasonably  supposed  1  that  Jesus  read 
in  Peter’s  glance  and  heard  in  His  tones  political  fanaticism, 
and  met  it  with  the  chill  prophecy  of  death.  Might  we 
further  suppose  that,  in  our  Lord’s  own  mind,  Messiahship 
and  suffering  had  become  completely  fused  ?  It  might 
be  unbearable  to  be  congratulated  on  a  crown  which  He 
knew  to  be  c  of  thorns.’  For  the  disciples  the  mixture  of 
‘  welcome  and  unwelcome  things  at  once  ’  was  4  hard  to 
reconcile.’  They  may  have  brooded  in  sullen  discontent 
till  the  Transfiguration  re-established  their  faith. 

A  fuller  religious  interpretation  by  Jesus  of  His  death  is 
found  in  two  well-known  passages.  First,  the  request  of 
James  and  John  (Matt.,  Mark).  We  have  been  asked 
to  write  this  off  as  an  early  Church  tradition,  affirming 
merely  that  Jesus  predicted  the  martyrdom  of  these  two. 
Surely  the  martyr  death,  even  if  really  found  in  the  passage, 
occurs  too  incidentally  to  constitute  its  main  burden. 
Re-establishment  of  faith  has  meant  a  reawakening  of 
ambition.  Christ  has  to  teach  two  disciples,  then  ten  others, 
the  law  of  His  kingdom — the  law  of  service  and  sacrifice 
— reinforced  by  His  own  example  in  life  and  in  death. 


1  So  J.  Weiss. 


74 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


In  Luke’s  partial  parallel 1  the  last  great  thought  is 
lacking.  But  when  we  restore  the  context  of  James  and 
John’s  request,2  and  of  Christ’s  demand  that  they  shall 
share  His  cup,  the  concluding  clause  is  seen  to  be  indispens¬ 
able.  Schweitzer  has  ingeniously  suggested  that,  when 
Jesus  found  the  end  of  the  world  was  delaying,  the  thought 
arose  that  by  dying  vicariously  He  might  exempt  others 
from  death,  and  introduce  the  age  of  glory.  Apart  from 
Schweitzer’s  grotesque  belief  in  Jesus’  surprise  at  the  world’s 
continuance,  and  from  the  forced  Gospel-criticism  behind 
it,  we  may  have  something  to  learn  here.  Jesus  may  have 
conceived  of  His  death  as  availing  with  God  to  bring 
in  immortality.  And  this  may  be  the  inmost  truth  of  our 
Christian  hope  and  experience,  although  immortality  has 
not  come  to  Christians  according  to  the  form  in  which  the 
Jewish  mind  of  the  first  century — possibly  even  the  mind 
of  Jesus  during  His  humiliation — expected  it. 

Christ  speaks  of  ransoming  ‘  many,’  not  ‘  all.’  This  may 
be  an  echo  of  Isaiah  liii.  12.3  Is  there  not  a  further  justifi¬ 
cation  ?  It  might  have  bewildered  slow  minds  to  be 
pledged  to  a  death  of  k^alty,  then  to  be  told  in  the  same 
breath  that  Jesus  was  to  die  in  lieu  of  them  all.  It  remains 
a  law  of  God’s  kingdom  that  Christians  must  lay  down 
their  own  fives  for  the  brethren.  Yet  surely  it  was  of 
profound  significance  that  Jesus  died  between  malefactors, 
no  disciple  being  worthy  to  share  with  Him  then.  It  was 
not  for  some  that  He  tasted  death,  but  for  ‘  every  man.’ 

The  record  of  the  observance  of  the  Supper  throws  us 
back  once  again  upon  Isaiah  liii.  12,  ‘  shed  for  many' 
perhaps  also  upon  Zechariah  ix.  11,  ‘ my  blood  of  the 
covenant.’  We  know  that  this  latter  prophecy  had  been 
in  our  Lord’s  mind  in  connection  with  the  triumphal 
entry.  Both  references  would  imply  a  connection  between 


1  xxii.  24-27.  Conceivably,  but  not  probably,  from  Q. 

2  Commentators  recognise  that  St.  Luke  frequently  ‘spares  the  apsotles.* 

3  So  Feme,  New  Testament  Theology. 


VI.] 


LIFE  AND  WORDS  OF  CHRIST 


75 


the  death  of  Christ  and  human  salvation.  If  we  are  safe 
in  drawing  the  further  inference,  that  the  great  New  Cove¬ 
nant  promise  was  also  in  the  Master’s  thoughts,  then  this 
solemn  teaching  definitely  connects  the  death  of  Christ 
with  human  salvation  in  the  special  sense  of  forgiveness — 
the  forgiveness  of  sins.  Indeed  Isaiah  liii.  10,  and  again 
ver.  12,  might  suffice  to  guarantee  this  lesson. 

One  would  hesitate  to  suppose  that  the  penal  view  of 
death  was  as  firmly  fixed  in  the  mind  of  Jesus  as  in  Jewish 
official  theology  or  (soon  after)  in  the  teaching  of  St.  Paul. 
And  yet  it  is  conceivable  that  Christ  so  believed.  Besides 
His  earlier  words  we  have  to  study  the  record  of  His  suffer¬ 
ings.  The  agony  of  Gethsemane  and  the  cry  of  deser¬ 
tion  on  the  cross  (Mark  and  Matthew)  might  be  explained 
by  a  shuddering  sense  that,  if  He  must  taste  death,  He 
must  in  doing  so  receive  into  His  own  bosom  the  wages 
of  human  sin.  This  interpretation  can  only  rank  as  a 
possibility ;  but  even  as  such  it  is  of  deep  significance 
to  every  Christian  heart. 

In  any  case  we  must  recall,  at  the  close  as  at  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  this  most  imperfect  study  of  Christ’s  relation 
to  sin — in  any  case  we  have  to  take  cognisance  not  only 
of  words  but  of  facts.  Not  merely  what  Christ  said  is 
of  priceless  value,  but  equally  what  He  did,  what  He 
endured  ;  when  sinlessly,  holily,  not  because  of  rashness 
or  failure  or  error,  but  because  of  pure  unsullied  goodness 
and  faithfulness  to  the  Father’s  will,  He  was  condemned 
to  death  by  evil  men,  and  God  suffered  it. 


76 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  THE  DISTINCTIVE  TEACHING  OF  ST.  PAUL 

St.  Paul  has  been  well  described  as  ‘  the  greatest  hamarti- 
ologist  of  the  New  Testament.’  He  is  indeed  at  all  points 
the  most  theologically  minded  of  its  writers.  For  one 
thing — unlike  the  Master — he  is  rabbinically  and  techni¬ 
cally  trained.  For  another  thing,  his  sudden  conversion 
from  persecuting  zeal  to  Christian  faith  forced  him  to 
realise  and  affirm  the  universality  of  Christianity.  It  is 
interesting  to  notice  how  the  tradition  of  Judaism  passes 
on  through  St.  Paul  into  Christian  thought,  but  also  how 
much  of  it  he  turns  upside  down. 

Judaism  taught  that  death  was  due  to  sin.  This  doc¬ 
trine  may  possibly  have  played  a  part  in  the  experiences 
of  our  Lord  ;  we  cannot  be  certain.  But  with  Paul,  con¬ 
verted  or  unconverted,  the  doctrine  is  central.  Closely 
allied  to  it  is  the  other  dogma,  that  crucifixion  is  a  cursed 
form  of  death.  Saul  the  persecutor  inferred  from  these 
doctrines  that  God  Himself  had  condemned  the  sham 
Messiah,  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  After  he  ‘  saw  the  Lord,’ 
the  doctrines  in  question  proved  to  him  that  the  sinless 
Jesus  had  died  for  the  sin  of  men,  and  had  borne,  on 
behalf  of  Jewish  Christians,  the  curse  of  a  broken  law.  He 
learned  from  Judaism  that  sin  is  universal,  and  that 
salvation  comes  by  obedience  to  law.  During  his  Jewish 
period  this  confidence  was  gradually  undermined  by  the 
experience  deposited  in  Romans  vii — he  could  not  obey 
the  law,  but  grew  worse  and  worse  under  its  goading.  As 


VII.] 


TEACHING  OF  ST.  PAUL 


77 


a  Christian  he  continued  to  proclaim  that  sin  is  universal, 
but  he  now  asserted  that  the  law  could  not  save  and  that 
God  meant  it  to  provoke  sin.  Finally,  Christian  experi¬ 
ence  proved  to  Paul — and  this  also  he  regarded  as  univer¬ 
sally  valid — that  it  was  for  the  first  time  possible  to  do 
what  law  requires  when  one  has  passed  from  ‘  under  law  ’ 
to  be  under  ‘  grace.’  Subsequent  theology,  as  we  shall 
have  to  note,  evaded  the  brilliant  paradoxes  of  St.  Paul’s 
teaching  regarding  law,  but  it  learned  from  him  more  than 
from  any  other  its  doctrines  of  sin  and  of  atonement. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  great  connected  statement  of  St. 
Paul’s  teaching  on  these  subjects.  We  find  it  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans. 

The  general  type  of  a  Pauline  epistle  discusses  doctrine 
in  full,  then  turns  to  practical  admonitions.  After  Romans, 
Ephesians  exhibits  this  method  most  clearly.  The  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  has  a  contrasted  system  ;  it  gives  layer 
upon  layei  of  doctrine  with  exhortations  interposed 
between.  Other  New  Testament  epistles  exhibit  a  less 
definite  structure  than  either  of  these  types.  Now  the 
general  character  of  Romans  may  be  defined  by  calling 
it  Galatians  rewritten.  In  Galatians  the  Pauline  type 
is  pretty  clear,  but  the  doctrinal  section  is  vehemently 
polemical,  and  is  interwoven  with  personal  apologetics. 
What  he  utters  there  in  a  storm,  blazing  with  lightning 
flashes  and  noisy  with  peals  of  thunder,  Paul  seeks  to 
reproduce  very  differently  for  Rome.  There  are  no  enemies 
of  his  in  this  un visited  Church  ;  he  will  forestall  enemies, 
and  seek  to  make  sure  that  the  Christians  of  the  world’s 
capital  are  in  sympathy  with  his  deepest  beliefs.  In 
Galatians  he  tells  us  how,  under  emergency,  he  visited 
the  leaders  at  Jerusalem,  and  4  laid  before  them  the  gospel 
which  he  preached  to  the  uncircumcision. ’  What  he  did  for 
the  Twelve  in  a  private  interview  he  has  done  for  us  and 
for  all  the  world  in  this  short  treatise.  It  is  not  a  com- 


78 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


plete  system  of  doctrine,  but  it  is  something  perhaps  even 
more  important.  It  is  a  careful  and  highly  conciliatory 
statement,  though  unwavering  in  substance,  of  Paul’s 
‘  gospel.’  And  in  particular  it  deals  fully  with  sin. 

The  two  sections  of  Galatians  are  recognisable  in  Romans 
(i-xi,  xii-xv),  but  new  material  is  introduced,  and  the 
subdivisions  are  of  great  importance.  Romans  vi-viii  is 
new,  and  in  a  sense  is  more  analogous  to  the  practical 
section  of  Galatians  than  to  anything  in  its  doctrine.  Like 
Galatians  v.  13,  it  opens  with  a  warning  against  abusing 
the  gospel  of  free  grace.  Romans  vi.  1  allots  the  Antino- 
mian  inference  to  an  objector ;  and  St.  Paul’s  objectors 
are  never  men  of  straw — they  are  formidably  alive.  Reck¬ 
oning  subdivisions,  one  might  distinguish  (1)  the  univer¬ 
sality  of  sin  ;  (2)  justification  by  grace,  iii.  21-v.  21 ;  [(2a) 
digression,  chapter  iv ;  Abraham’s  prerogatives  stand] ;  (3) 
‘  mystical  ’  fife-fellowship  with  Christ  and  redemption  from 
bondage  to  the  flesh,  vi-viii ;  (4)  the  problem  of  Israel — 
raising  incidentally  the  problem  of  Election — ix-xi  ;  (5) 
practical  teaching,  xii-xv.  Something  must  be  said  here 
regarding  the  first,  second,  and  third  of  these  sections. 

St.  Paul  begins  with  a  demonstration  of  the  universality 
of  sin.  He  might  have  taken  a  short-cut  to  his  conclu¬ 
sion  by  appealing  to  the  universality  of  death,  for  he 
believes  that  death  implies  sin  ;  but,  though  he  makes 
that  statement  incidentally  (v.  12),  he  prefers  a  different 
train  of  thought  for  his  main  argument.  It  will  also  be 
contended  by  some  that  he  explains  the  universality  of  sin 
as  well  as  of  death  by  the  act  of  Adam.  In  any  case, 
Adam  appears  at  the  end  of  the  argument,  not  at  the 
beginning.  Let  the  critics  of  the  great  theological  apostle 
put  it  to  his  credit  that  he  opens  his  campaign  by  appeal¬ 
ing  to  facts. 

Yet  it  was  no  easy  task  he  set  himself — to  prove  a 
universal  (and  such  a  universal !)  by  an  induction  of  par¬ 
ticulars.  He  simplifies  the  task  by  operating  with  a 


VII.] 


TEACHING  OP  ST.  PAUL 


79 


time-honoured  distinction — Greeks  and  J ews.  The  Gentiles 
are  charged  with  idolatry  as  their  master- sin.  In  spite 
of  a  clear  revelation  in  physical  nature  (to  which  ii.  14,  15 
adds,  In  conscience),  mankind  has  practised  the  ignoble, 
blasphemous  cult  of  images.  When  he  refers  to  the  un¬ 
natural  vices  that  flourished  unchecked  under  classical 
civilisation,  he  does  not  emphasise  their  character  as  sins, 
though  he  abhors  them  infinitely.  Modern  minds,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  see  in  vice  a  clearer  proof  of  the  degradation 
caused  by  sin  than  in  idolatry  itself.  For  St.  Paul  the 
vices  of  that  wise  world  which  knew  not  God  are  the  first 
terrible  instalment  of  divine  punishment. 

Turning  in  chapter  ii  to  the  Jews,  he  seems  to  find  more 
difficulty  in  framing  a  conclusive  indictment.  The  first 
argument  merely  declares  that  it  will  not  do  to  blame 
others  if  in  conduct  we  are  equally  guilty  ourselves.  The 
insinuation  that  Jewish  life  was  largely  degraded  may 
have  been  warranted  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  base  a  universal 
dogma  upon  rhetorical  phrases.  In  the  end,  St.  Paul 
appeals  to  denunciations  of  sin  in  the  Psalter.  He  declares 
that  that  book  belongs  to  ‘  the  law,’  and  that  ‘  the  law  ’ 
addresses  those  ‘under’  it.  Accordingly,  the  Jews  are 
meant ;  and  so  the  ‘  whole  world  ’  is  ‘  guilty  before  God.’ 
His  quotation  in  Galatians  (iii.  10  ;  Deut.  xxvii.  26)  seems 
a  better  logical  proof  of  the  guilt  of  Israel,  though  even 
this  citation  interprets  Old  Testament  words  with  a  strin¬ 
gency  undreamed  of  by  the  original  human  authors. 

Sin  is  thus  shown  to  be  universal.  And  with  St.  Paul 
universal  sin  is  taken  in  a  very  strong  sense.  He  does  not 
merely  hold  that  there  is  a  regrettable  taint  of  evil  in  every 
man  ;  he  sees  the  world  ripe  for  final  judgment.  The 
characteristic  phrase  is,  ‘  there  is  no  distinction  ’  (iii.  22) ; 
we  meet  it  again  in  the  major  mode  at  x.  12.  Paul  does 
not  entangle  himself  in  the  paradox  that  all  sins  are 
equally  bad.  But  he  sees  no  use  in  arguing  whether  our 
debt  amounts  to  fifty  or  to  five  hundred  pence,  if  we  have 


80 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


‘  nothing  to  pa}^.’  The  whole  set  of  his  thought  disin¬ 
clines  him  to  draw  contrasts  between  different  degrees 
of  the  universal  guilt. 

Another  thing  we  must  note  is  the  occurrence  of  certain 
moral  and  religious  postulates  in  the  course  of  the  argu¬ 
ment.  As  Jew  and  as  Christian,  Paul  feels  that  nothing 
can  challenge  God’s  function  as  judge  (iii.  6).  As  Christian 
he  adds  to  this  that  there  must  be  no  boasting  in  God’s 
presence  (iii.  27  ;  iv.  2).  Nothing  can  be  true  which  repre¬ 
sents  God  as  man’s  debtor. 

When  he  passes  on  to  speak  of  justification  Paul  names 
as  its  means  the  blood  of  Christ ;  and  there  can  be  little 
doubt  this  is  sacrificial  language.  Probably  the  doctrine 
was  pre-Pauline.  It  was  demanded  by  the  facts  and 
enforced  by  Isaiah  liii  ;  it  had  in  all  probability  been 
taught  by  the  Master  Himself  and  repeated  by  the  Jewish 
apostles  (1  Cor.  xv.  3,  11).  Why  sacrificial  blood  possesses 
atoning  quality  Paul  does  not  tell  us.  Nor  does  he  face 
questions  investigated  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews — what 
it  was  that  the  literal  sacrifices  of  the  Old  Testament 
attained,  and  wherein  they  fell  short.  It  may  be  true,  as 
Holtzmann  and  others  hold,  that  Paul  interpreted  a  sin- 
offering  as  a  vicarious  punishment.  That  cannot  have 
been  the  primitive  view,  but  it  may  have  been  a  dogma  or 
pious  opinion  of  Jewish  theology.  On  other  lines  we  see 
St.  Paul’s  thought  formulating  a  doctrine  of  penal  sub¬ 
stitution  ;  on  this  line — when  sacrifice  is  in  view — evidence 
is  lacking.  Sacrifice  was  not  a  dominant  conception  with 
the  apostle.  The  law  said  to  him,  Do  this  and  live  ; 
not,  Enjoy  divine  fellowship  ;  not,  Rectify  wrong  relations 
with  God.  Though  he  probably  implies  that  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  sacrifices  were  types  of  Christ’s  death,  he  does  not 
consciously  connect  law  with  that  supremely  great  event. 
The  new  righteousness  of  God  in  Christ  is  ‘  apart  from 
law  ’  (iii.  21). 


VII.] 


TEACHING  OF  ST.  PAUL 


81 


It  is  true  that  in  the  Atonement  he  sees  God  *  just,  and 
the  justifier  of  ’  the  believer  (hi.  26).  This  may  be  held 
to  guarantee  a  penal  view  of  sacrifice.  But  surely  a 
narrowly  orthodox  paraphrase  of  St.  Paul’s  phrase — say, 
‘  just  although  the  justifier  ’ — fails  to  include  everything. 
St.  Paul  holds  that  the  condemning  justice  of  God  must 
be  dealt  with  in  Christ.  Yet  that,  even  for  St.  Paul,  is 
a  mere  conditio  sine  qua  non  of  human  salvation.  It  is 
morally  necessary  that  God  be  just  in  the  matter  of  punish¬ 
ment  ;  but  also  it  is  morally  necessary,  if  God  is  to  be  true 
to  Himself,  that  He  become  at  length  a  justifier.  Con¬ 
demnation  though  terrible  is  divine  and  glorious,  but  the 
ministry  of  reconciliation  is  more  divine  and  more  glorious 
by  far  (2  Cor.  iii.  9).  The  sinner  is  an  enemy  ;  God  regards 
him  as  such  (Rom.  v.  10)  ;  but  it  is  the  glory  of  the  gospel 
that  the  Son  of  God  died  for  God’s  enemies  (v.  8). 

Here  we  strike  upon  the  extraordinarily  difficult  parallel 
between  Adam  and  Christ.  While  the  dependence  of  the 
race  upon  Adam  is  good  Jewish  theology,  it  is  quite  possible 
that  Christian  motives  stiffen  the  doctrine  when  Paul  treats 
Adam  and  Christ  in  parallelism.  Death  is  said  to  have 
passed  upon  all,  ‘  for  that  all  sinned.’  The  old  rendering, 
4  in  whom  all  sinned,’  was,  of  course,  grammatically 
vicious ;  it  is  not  certain  that  it  distorted  the  sense. 
There  are  at  least  four  possible  views. 

Most  logical  of  all :  (1)  Death  passed  on  all,  for  all  had 
sinned  [in  Adam],  which  we  may  see  from  the  fact  that,  in 
the  ages  before  the  law,  when  mankind 1  were  not  person¬ 
ally  responsible  beings,  death  reigned  unchecked.  It  was 
the  penalty  of  Adam’s  fault :  ‘  Immediate  imputation.’ 

Or  :  (2)  Death  passed  upon  all,  for  all  proved  heredi¬ 
tarily  sinners.  And,  if  you  say  that  sin  was  not  fully 
imputable  in  the  period  before  the  law,  I  grant  it ;  but  I 
point  out  to  you  that  sin  was  even  then  sufficiently  virulent 
to  cause  universal  death.  This  is  4  mediate  imputation.’ 

1  The  fathers  of  the  Jewish  race  ? 

F 


82 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Adam  infected  mankind  with  sin,  and  sin  involved  the 
death  penalty — directly  from  men’s  own  act,  indirectly 
from  Adam’s. 

Or  :  (3)  Sin  showed  itself  in  the  world  for  the  first  time 
under  Adam,  and  death  soon  appeared  as  its  result ;  and 
so  death  became  universal,  for  all  in  their  turn  showed  the 
inevitable  bias  of  the  flesh  towards  sin.  Yet  a  peculiar 
significance  attaches  to  the  first  manifestation  of  a  tend¬ 
ency  ;  and  Adam’s  sin  is  the  legal  ground  of  death  during 
the  ages  before  the  law. 

Or  :  (4)  Death  passed  from  Adam’s  act  upon  all  men. 
And  if  this  seems  unsatisfactory,  remember — they  were 
all  individually  sinners. 

Dr.  Agar  Beet  has  argued  that  a  Bible  writer  must  be 
interpreted  on  the  assumption  that  he  is  self-consistent. 
The  maxim  is  a  good  one,  if  it  will  work  ;  it  must  not  cover 
a  revived  dogmatic  postulate :  ‘  The  thinking  of  inspired 
men  exhibits  no  gaps  and  no  fallacies.’  Of  the  above  four 
interpretations,  as  we  have  already  said,  the  first  alone 
is  fully  logical.  The  fourth  is  indeed  defended  by  Feme 
with  the  remark  that  St.  Paul  defies  his  own  logic  ;  he 
ought  to  make  the  parallel  of  Adam  and  Christ  exact,  but 
to  meet  moral  difficulties  he  falls  back  on  the  assertion 
that  each  man  destroys  himself,  though  he  never  could 
teach  self- salvation.  Did  the  apostle’s  heart  then  fail  him 
at  the  last  moment  ?  It  is  possible  but  hardly  probable. 
The  chief  drawback  to  interpretation  (1)  is  that  Paul 
could  have  put  that  position  far  more  clearly.  Number 
(2)  seems  to  do  violence  to  language.  Number  (3)  has  high 
authority  in  its  favour,1  but  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  such 
a  platitude 2  is  all  that  is  covered  by  the  apostle’s  words. 

1  My  colleague  during  many  years,  Professor  Peake,  is  a  lifelong  student 
of  Paulinism.  The  importance  of  his  published  work  on  the  subject  must 
not  be  judged  by  its  externals.  Even  his  incidental  references  have  behind 
them  exhaustive  knowledge  and  vigorous  thought. 

*  Or  is  it  to  be  taken  as  a  quasi  survival  of  primitive  belief  in  magic  ? 


VII.] 


TEACHING  OF  ST.  PAUL 


83 


In  offering  an  opinion  one  does  so  with  all  reserve. 
It  seems  to  the  present  writer,  after  such  study  as  he  has 
been  able  to  give  to  the  matter,1  that  we  are  compelled 
to  find  ‘  immediate  imputation  ’  in  the  passage.  Only, 
unlike  the  Protestant  scholastics,  we  must  not  include 
‘  mediate  imputation  ’  as  being  also  part  of  Paul’s  teach¬ 
ing.  So  far  as  I  am  now  able  to  judge,  St.  Paul  does  not 
reflect  on  the  connection  between  Adam’s  act  and  the 
sinfulness  of  empirical  human  nature.  *  Adam  ’  appears 
only  in  the  section  of  Romans  devoted  to  the  problem  of 
guilt  and  justification.  ‘  The  flesh  ’  (in  the  technical 
sense)  appears  only  in  the  section  dealing  with  bondage 
and  mystical  redemption.  It  does  not  seem  necessary — 
even  as  a  matter  of  logic,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument — 
to  make  St.  Paul  hold  Adam  responsible  for  more  than 
physical  death.  Inbred  sinfulness  need  not  be  dragged 
in  at  this  point.  Still  less  need  we  connect  with  Adam 
the  final  damnation  of  the  unconverted  or  non-elect. 
Logic  may  tend  towards  such  corollaries  ;  but  it  is  pre¬ 
sumptuous  to  claim  the  apostle’s  vote  and  influence  for 
extreme  deductions  hammered  out  of  his  words  by  ages 
of  scholastic  controversy. 

If  this  is  correct,  there  are  two  concurrent  sources  of 
obscurity  in  the  passage  we  are  studying.  Partly  the 
passage  is  obscure  because  St.  Paul  has  failed  to  think  out 
his  system  in  all  possible  ramifications.  His  own  mind 
has  probably  left  in  the  dark  the  connection  between  Adam 
and  the  flesh.  Partly  too,  even  when  he  means  to  be 
quite  definite,  St.  Paul  has  failed  to  convey  his  meaning 
clearly  to  our  minds  ;  or,  to  use  more  decorous  terms, 
his  readers  and  students  have  failed  to  grasp  his  point.2 
Grammarians  may  ultimately  authorise  one  interpreta- 

1  Modifying  what  he  wrote  in  noticing  Feine’s  New  Testament  Theology , 
ed.  1 ,  for  the  Review  of  Theology  and  Philosophy . 

2  I  do  not  find  it  necessary  to  exclude  interpretation  (4);  hut  the  main 
line  of  thought  seems  to  be  given  by  interpretation  (1) — modified  as  in  the 
text. 


84 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


tion  and  forbid  the  rest.  Hitherto,  at  least,  they  have 
not  been  able  to  close  the  discussion.  One  feels  as  if 
St.  Paul,  instead  of  stating  his  views  in  full,  had  thrown 
at  us  shorthand  notes  in  a  foreign  language  which  we 
know  very  imperfectly.  What  can  the  Roman  church 
have  made  of  the  passage  ? 

Much  of  what  has  to  be  said  regarding  chapters  vi-viii 
has  already  been  forestalled.  The  discussion  is  new  in 
Romans  as  compared  with  Galatians.  This  (as  it  is  often 
called)  4  mystical  ’  deliverance  from  bondage  comes  by 
4  baptism  into  Christ’s  death.’  Being  rescued  in  principle 
by  the  twofold  miracle  of  the  crucifixion  (accompanied 
by  the  resurrection)  and  of  baptism,  Christians  are  to  make 
good  in  fife  what  is  theirs  by  faith.  In  chapter  vii  the  evil 
principle  begins  to  be  called  ‘  the  flesh,’  and  St.  Paul  records 
his  own  history,  with  possible  allegorising  of  Genesis  iii. 
Amid  the  noble  organ-music  of  Romans  viii  we  have  par¬ 
ticularly  definite  dogmas  regarding  bondage  in  sin  (7,  8). 
In  other  contexts  these  words  might  be  understood  with 
literary  freedom,  or  taken  as  historical  generalisations. 
But,  standing  in  a  great  dogmatic  treatise,  they  mean  all 
that  they  say. 

We  must  go  back  to  the  closing  passage  of  Galatians — 
the  ethical  section — to  learn  what  St.  Paul  means  by  4  flesh.’ 
His  psychology  of  the  moral  life  is  loyal  to  the  facts  of 
conflict  and  choice  ;  it  hardly  allows  the  existence  of  any¬ 
thing  else.  The  flesh  is  wholly  bad.  The  spirit — when 
describing  unregenerate  man  in  Romans  vii,  Paul  rather  says 
4  the  inner  man  ’ — is  purely  good.  Unlike  later  orthodoxy, 
Paul  sees  in  the  unsaved  a  longing  for  what  is  good  ;  only 
this  longing  is  hopeless.  He  points  us  to  experience — as 
in  dealing  with  sin’s  universality,  so  here  in  describing  sin’s 
bondage.  His  own  intense  emotional  nature,  and  his  own 
sensitive  conscience,  resulted  in  experiences  which  he 
regards  as  inevitable  for  all  mankind.  He  never  drops 


VII.] 


TEACHING  OF  ST.  PAUL 


85 


a  hint  that  he  is  being  guided  by  Greek  philosophy.  Even 
if  he  is,  he  does  not  appeal  to  its  authority  but  to  what 
he  regards  as  the  authority  of  facts. 

Quite  as  important  as  the  technical  question,  where  St. 
Paul  got  his  name  for  4  the  flesh,’  is  the  substantial  issue : 
Did  he  consider  man’s  nature  as  formed  by  God  1  fatally 
destined  to  sin  ?  No  room  may  seem  to  be  left  for  holding 
anything  else,  if  we  are  right  in  saying  that  St.  Paul  has 
not  worked  out  a  theory  of  the  inheritance  of  corruption 
from  Adam.  Or  is  it  possible  that  he  failed  to  theorise 
at  all  upon  the  origins  of  sinfulness  ?  The  J ewish  doctrine 
of  the  Yetzer  is  at  its  best  highly  ambiguous.  Perhaps 
here  again  there  is  a  backward  influence  from  Christian 
doctrine.  As  Paul’s  view  of  man’s  dependence  on  Adam 
may  be  sharpened  by  a  comparison  with  dependence 
on  Christ,  so  his  account  of  man  in  the  flesh  may  be 
darkened  by  a  contrast  to  his  view  of  man  in  the  spirit. 
At  any  rate  we  must  avoid  the  error  of  holding  that  the 
flesh  according  to  St.  Paul  is  weak.  That  is  good  Old 
Testament  doctrine,  but  not  Pauline.  For  Paulinism 
the  flesh  is  fatally  strong,  so  strong  as  to  neutralise  the 
powers  of  the  law  of  God. 

Little  has  yet  been  said  here  about  the  characteristic 
Pauline  doctrine  of  law — a  doctrine  so  startling  that 
systematic  theologians  with  one  consent  have  set  it  aside. 
If  in  Galatians  the  law  is  largely  ceremonial,  given  as  Paul 
would  say  only  by  angels  and  not  directly  by  God,2  in 
Romans  attention  is  concentrated  on  its  higher  side.  It 
is  4  the  law  of  God  ’  embodying  essential  moral  claims.  It 
fails  on  one  side  because  of  the  flesh,  but  on  another  side 
because  God  did  not  mean  it  to  succeed.  The  promise  to 
Abraham  looked  right  on  to  the  Gospel ;  the  law  came  in 

1  Moderns  would  add,  through  evolution. 

2  The  emphasis  in  Stephen’s  speech  (at  any  rate)  is  different  (Acts  vii.  53) ; 
compare  also  Hebrews  ii.  2. 


86 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


between  to  provoke  sin  and  show  it  in  its  full  malignity. 
The  element  of  law  taken  by  itself  (and  it  is  regarded  alike 
by  Paul  and  by  the  Pharisees  as  the  essential  feature  of  the 
Old  Covenant)  cannot  be  a  full  or  worthy  revelation  of 
God — that  surely  is  permanent  Christian  truth. 

There  are  other  difficulties  still  in  St.  Paul’s  doctrine  of 
law.  What  does  he  hold  about  its  relation  to  the  imputa¬ 
tion  of  sin  ?  How  can  we  harmonise  the  following  sayings 
or  groups  of  sayings: — (1)  Those  who  sin  without  law  perish 
without  law.  (2)  Where  there  is  no  law  neither  is  there 
transgression.  (3)  Sin  is  not  imputed  when  there  is  no 
law.  (4)  The  law  entered  that  the  offence  might  abound. 
(5)  Sin  became  exceeding  sinful  ?  1  Formally,  one  takes 
it,  they  cannot  be  harmonised.  Sin  can  ruin  apart  from 
law ;  law  first  creates  responsibility ;  law  aggravates 
guilt.  These  are  three  views,  not  one.  Yet  all  three 
views  agree  in  implying  that  law  does  no  good ;  and 
again  all  imply  that  only  the  gospel  saves.  The  passage 
in  Romans  ii  from  which  our  first  quotation  is  taken 
seems  to  be  a  fragment  of  a  moral  system  which  has 
wandered  into  a  dogmatic  context.  Calvinism  used  to 
pretend  that  the  heathen  had  fight  enough  to  condemn 
but  not  to  save  ;  to  which  one’s  conscience  replied  that 
the  only  ground  why  light  condemns  is  that,  if  better 
employed,  it  might  save.  The  truth  is  that  at  Romans  ii. 
12  the  great  dogmatic  apostle  falls  back  upon  a  moral 
view  of  human  life  which  brings  him  nearer  to  teachings 
of  the  Master  and  to  other  New  Testament  epistles. 
It  will  not  do  to  evade  such  passages  by  saying  with 
A.  Ritschl  that  in  Romans  ii  Paul  is  arguing  upon 
Pharisee  principles  which  he  does  not  personally  hold. 
Indeed  he  does  hold  them,  and  as  a  loyal  disciple  he  must. 
Whether  he  can  reconcile  justification  by  faith  with  judg¬ 
ment  by  works — or  whether  in  face  of  that  problem  he  is 
no  wiser  than  the  rest  of  us — he  is  bound  to  teach  both. 

1  Rom.  ii.  12  ;  iy.  15  ;  v.  13 ;  v.  20  ;  rii.  13. 


VII.] 


TEACHING  OF  ST.  PAUL 


87 


As  often  as  he  begins  to  talk  morality  he  recurs  to  the 
truth  that  what  we  sow  we  reap  (Gal.  vi.  7  ;  1  Cor.  vi.  9). 
His  very  doctrine  of  law,  as  we  notice,  has  touches  of 
the  same  moral  wisdom  about  it.  Not  even  to  this  great 
champion  of  gospel  truth  has  it  been  granted  to  create  one 
rounded  and  harmonious  system  of  doctrine.  Even  in 
such  close-knit  dialectic  we  must  distinguish  letter  from 
spirit,  eternal  principle  from  inadequate  time-forms.  The 
Church  has  failed  to  improve  much  of  its  splendid  Pauline 
inheritance.  Yet  Catholicism  did  not  do  amiss  when  it 
concentrated  on  the  central  truth  of  atonement,  and  left 
over  the  exploration  of  the  Pauline  outfield  for  happier 
ages. 


88 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  GENERALLY 

While  the  singular  powers  of  St.  Paul  have  given  him 
great  though  not  unlimited  influence  over  later  theology, 
there  exists  in  other  passages  of  the  New  Testament  a 
different  type  of  doctrine  regarding  sin.  In  noting  this 
divergence  one  does  not  affirm  contradiction.  The  two 
hamartiologies  are  fitted  to  complement  each  other — 
not  as  parts  of  one  system  of  doctrine,  which  they  are  not, 
but  as  separate  aspects  of  a  single  truth.  To  make  such 
an  affirmation,  however,  is  to  pass  into  dogmatics.  Speak¬ 
ing  as  historians,  we  have  to  begin  by  establishing  the 
existence  of  the  second  type. 

Before  we  try  to  do  this  it  may  be  well  to  note 
briefly  the  general  New  Testament  acceptance  of  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  Christ’s  atonement  for  sin.  The  agreement  is  not 
quite  unbroken.  No  mention  is  made  of  any  such  truth  in 
the  Epistle  of  James.  This  is  significant  enough,  and  a 
warning  against  hard  or  dictatorial  dogmatism.  Yet  we 
may  surely  consider  it  still  more  significant  that  only 
one  1  writing  of  the  New  Testament  is  thus  silent.  Parti¬ 
cular  importance  attaches  to  St.  Paul’s  summary  of  central 
truths  at  1  Corinthians  xv.  3-11 — truths  taught  in  the  Chris¬ 
tian  Church  before  him.  Very  likely  St.  Paul’s  experience 
and  his  dialectic  sharpened  the  outlines  of  the  common  creed. 
Very  likely  his  statements  in  its  support  have  fringes  of 

1  It  would  not  be  fair  to  draw  inferences  from  such  short  writings  as  Jude 
or  2  and  3  John. 


vih.]  GENERAL  NEW  TESTAMENT  TEACHING 


89 


idiosyncrasy  which  the  Church  as  a  whole  will  never  be 
able  to  appropriate.  But  the  central  testimony  remains, 
and  it  is  indeed  memorable.  ‘  Whether  it  be  I  or  they,  so 
we  preach,  and  so  ye  believed.5 

Turning  now  to  the  general  New  Testament  doctrine 
of  sin,  we  remark  the  absence  of  the  Pauline  formula  which 
asserts  that  ‘  there  is  no  distinction.5  Degrees  and  stages 
in  evil,  however  undeniable  in  point  of  fact,  were  negli¬ 
gible  for  St.  Paul’s  doctrine  in  the  presence  of  universal 
guilt,  ruin,  helplessness.  For  the  other  type  of  doctrine, 
degrees  and  stages  in  evil  are  all-important.  Its  starting 
point  is  found  in  Christ’s  words  regarding  an  unpardon¬ 
able  blasphemy.1  These  terrible  words  have  elements  of 
mercifulness,  both  in  regard  to  the  degrees  of  sin  which 
may  be  forgiven,  and  to  the  age-long  possibility  of  seeking 
and  finding  forgiveness.  When  a  similar  distinction  of 
grades  in  evil  reappears  in  apostolic  writings,  the  central 
idea  is  that  ignorance  may  be  a  partial  apology,  while  no 
complete  exculpation,  for  wrong-doing. 

The  keynote  here  is  furnished  by  words  of  our  Lord 
upon  the  cross  as  reported  in  Luke  (xxiii.  34).  Even  if 
we  accepted  the  unpleasant  interpretation  which  confines 
the  reference  of  the  words  to  Gentile  underlings,  and 
excludes  the  true  authors  of  the  great  crime,  the  plea 
would  still  imply  that  partial  ignorance  mitigates  guilt. 
We  find  a  similar  doctrine  at  Acts  iii.  17 — words  which 
may  further  serve  as  evidence  in  what  sense  our  Lord’s 
words  were  understood  by  St.  Luke.2  Here  the  plea 
explicitly  covers  the  very  conspirators  within  the  Sanhe¬ 
drin.  Their  sin  was  not  the  greatest  possible,  and  is 
therefore  nearer  the  hope  of  pardon.  Another  unmis¬ 
takable  example  of  the  doctrine  occurs  at  1  Timothy  i.  13, 
where  the  aged  St.  Paul  is  represented  as  declaring  that 

1  See  above,  Chapter  vi.  p.  72. 

2  Compare  also  Acts  vii.  60.  Could  we  suppose  that  Stephen  died  in  a 
more  merciful  mood  than  his  Lord? 


90 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


he  had  obtained  mercy,  though  a  persecutor,  because  he 
had  acted  4  ignorantly,  in  unbelief.’  This  echo  of  the 
non-Pauline  type  of  doctrine  concurs  with  much  other 
internal  evidence  in  leading  us  to  place  1  Timothy — and 
probably  also  the  companion  epistles — later  than  St.  Paul. 
The  verse  which  declares  that  he  had  been  4  the  chief  of 
sinners  ’  might  sound  more  Pauline,  yet  it  gives  stronger 
expression  to  a  sense  of  purely  personal  guilt  than  we  find 
in  the  better  authenticated  epistles. 

There  remain  one  or  two  doubtful  passages.  Acts  xvii. 
23  (30),  whether  the  composition  of  St.  Paul  or  of  St.  Luke, 
gives  a  different  turn  to  the  conception  of  ignorance. 
An  altar  to  an  unknown  God  is  the  non-Christian  world’s 
confession  of  helplessness  !  The  next  words,  which  contain 
a  real  parallel  to  Romans  i.  20 — and  still  more  to  Acts  xiv. 
15-17 — imply  that  Gentile  mankind  might  have  known 
God  from  His  works  ;  there  is,  or  there  ought  to  be,  a 
Natural  Theology.  And  yet  not  by  these  means  have  the 
times  of  ignorance  1  come  to  an  end ,  but  by  the  mission  of 
the  Man  whom  God  has  raised  from  the  dead  and  through 
whom  He  will  judge  the  world.  Previous  ignorance, 
whether  or  not  less  guilty,  had  been  treated  with  less 
rigour.2  Now  the  standard  rises.  We  can  hardly  say 
with  confidence  that  the  passage  speaks  to  our  problem. 
If  it  does,  and  if  it  be  genuinely  St.  Paul’s,  the  reason 
might  be  that  unwonted  circumstances  had  led  his  mind 
into  an  unusual  train  of  thought. 

1  Peter  i.  14  might  also  be  taken  as  conveying  an  impli¬ 
cation  that  ignorance  lessens  guilt.  And,  if  so,  we  might 
argue  that  the  passage  is  an  example  of  independence 
towards  St.  Paul’s  type  of  thinking,  in  an  epistle  which 
contains  many  Pauline  echoes.  But  here  again  there  is 
no  certainty.  The  fact  of  ignorance  is  emphasised,  but 
not  its  theological  or  religious  significance. 

1  A  phrase  which  suggests  a  corresponding  Mohammedan  conception. 

2  Here  again  compare  Romans  iii.  25. 


viii. j  GENERAL  NEW  TESTAMENT  TEACHING 


91 


Another  view  of  ignorance  regards  it  as  an  aggravation 
of  guilt  and  not  an  exculpation.  Involuntary  ignorance 
would  exculpate,  but  what  if  ignorance  is,  at  least  in  part, 
self-incurred  ?  That  is  affirmed  regarding  Gentile  mankind 
in  Romans  i — the  dogmatic  high-water  mark  of  St.  Paul 
and  of  the  New  Testament.  Gentiles  had  all  the  materials 
for  constructing  a  Natural  Theology,  and  they  did  not  like 
to  retain  God  in  their  thoughts.  At  Acts  xiii.  27  St.  Paul 
is  reported  as  passing  the  same  censure  on  the  Jews 
of  Jerusalem.  At  any  rate  he  drops  no  hint — like  that  of 
St.  Peter  in  Acts  iii — that  their  ignorance  lessened  their 
guilt.  And  surely  ignorance  of  their  own  Scriptures 
must  have  been  incurred  by  their  own  fault,  and  would 
therefore  aggravate  their  offence.  If  this  interpretation 
be  just,  then  the  discourse  of  Acts  xiii,  which  has  been 
called  Petrine  or  by  others  Catholicising,  is  not  without 
characteristic  Pauline  touches. 

At  Ephesians  iv.  18  the  doctrine  of  guilty  ignorance 
reappears  more  plainly  still.  At  1  Corinthians  ii.  8  we  break 
fresh  ground.  Here  St.  Paul  hints  at  an  esoteric  doctrine, 
regarding  angel-rulers  who  did  not  know  what  they  were 
doing  when  they  crucified  Christ.  In  its  context,  this 
again  seems  guilty  ignorance.  These  blinded  but  murder¬ 
ous  angels  are  true  kinsmen  of  the  outwitted  Satan  who 
figures  in  patristic  doctrines  of  the  atonement.  Yet 
parallels  in  other  Pauline  epistles  1  suggest  that  (at  least 
in  certain  moods)  St.  Paul  conceived  of  angels  who  were 
neutral  rather  than  hostile  to  God,  and  who  came  to 
partake  in  the  blessings  of  Christ’s  reconciliation.  On 
the  whole  this  half- divulged  esoteric  lore  appears  to  be 
little  fitted  for  embodjfing  in  doctrines,  and  less  valuable 
than  the  grand  gospel  commonplaces.  The  most  purely 
neutral  of  all  St.  Paul’s  references  to  human  ignor¬ 
ance  of  God  is  found  at  Galatians  iv.  8,  9. 2  It  had 

1  Eph.  i.  10  ;  Col.  i.  20. 

2  Characteristic  Pauline  language  ;  compare  1  Corinthians  viii.  3 


92  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

existed ;  but,  whether  due  to  guilt  or  to  misfortune, 
it  is  gone  ! 

The  central  Pauline  doctrine  reappears  twice  in  the  dis¬ 
courses  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  (viii.  55;  xvi.  3).  Upon 
any  view  of  that  Gospel  we  must  make  room  for  infiltra¬ 
tions  and  even  remodellings  in  the  record  of  Christ’s 
teaching. 

This  Pauline  mode  of  thought  has  antecedents  in  the  Old 
Testament.  The  prayer  of  Jeremiah  x.  25  ( =  Psalm  lxxix. 
6,  7)  is  only  saved  from  heartlessness  if  we  suppose  that 
the  ignorance  spoken  of  was  a  fruit  of  sin.  And,  in  fact, 
words  that  immediately  follow  speak  of  cruel  wrong-doing 
on  the  part  of  the  Gentile  nations.  Correlative  to  this 
doctrine  of  guilty  ignorance  is  the  doctrine  of  a  knowledge 
of  God  involving  moral  conditions  (Jer.  xxii.  15,  16). 
All  this  leads  on  well  enough  to  St.  Paul’s  more  sharply 
formulated  doctrines. 

Returning  to  the  view  that  ignorance  is  a  palliation,  we 
have  next  to  ask :  Is  such  palliation  necessary  to  forgive¬ 
ness  ?  Are  sins  of  ignorance  the  only  sins  God  will  pardon  ? 
That  is  the  plain  and  emphatic  teaching  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  (iv.  15  ;  v.  2  ;  vi.  4  ;  ix.  7  ;  x.  26).  In  this 
fuller  unfolding  of  theological  implications  the  epistle  is 
but  loyal  to  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  Old  Testament 
law.1  Such  a  verse  as  Psalm  xix.  12  may  reveal  something 
of  the  timidity  of  a  soul  environed  by  countless  ritual 
dangers,  but  is  mainly  the  outbreathing  of  a  tender 
conscience.  The  ‘  great  ’  transgression  dreaded  as  not 
unthinkable  (ver.  13)  is  no  doubt  apostasy  to  the  heathen 
party. 

This  brings  us  back  to  the  ‘  wilful  sin  ’  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews.  Professor  K.  Lake  2  has  suggested  that  for  this 
epistle  all  post-baptismal  sin  ranks  as  mortal,  whereas  for 
1  John  (v.  16,  17)  there  exist  the  twn  classes  of  mortal 

1  Supra ,  Chapter  ill.  p.  42. 

2  Encyclopedia  of  Religion  and  Ethics ,  art.  *  Baptism.’ 


VIII.]  GENERAL  NEW  TESTAMENT  TEACHING 


93 


and  venial  sins.  That  is  surely  wrong.  The  writer  of 
Hebrews  is  steadily  contemplating  the  one  sin  of  apostasy, 
which  he  identifies  with  the  unpardonable  sin  of  the 
Master’s  teaching.1  With  all  the  energy  at  his  com¬ 
mand  he  assures  his  readers  that,  if  they  once  deliberately 
fall  away,  they  are  eternally  lost.  But  he  has  not  told 
us  that  no  ‘  post-baptismal  ’  sin  finds  pardon.  Surely 
it  is  incredible  that  one  who  dwells  so  lovingly  upon  the 
gentleness  of  Old  Testament  high  priests  should  present 
to  our  faith  a  great  High  Priest  in  heaven  who  is  merciless 
towards  the  least  lapse. 

In  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  it  may  cost  some  reading 
between  the  lines  to  discover  teaching  about  the  pardon 
of  sins  committed  by  Christians.  Other  parts  of  the  New 
Testament  speak  with  greater  clearness  upon  the  subject. 
First  of  all,  we  may  point  out  that  the  Lord’s  Prayer  is 
framed  for  those  habitually  in  need  of  forgiveness,  and 
habitually  receiving  it  from  God’s  mercy.  Unless  we 
share  the  bizarre  spirituality  of  the  Plymouth  Brethren, 
and  seek  to  rise  beyond  that  prayer  into  a  supposed  region 
of  higher  dogmatic  and  apostolic  truth,  the  question  is 
decided  for  us  by  this  one  appeal. 

But  secondly,  we  may  appeal  to  St.  Paul,  in  the  rage 
for  new  interpretations,  good  or  bad,  some  have  told 
us  that  Paul  dogmatically  teaches  the  sinlessness  of  every 
believer.  It  is  true  that  his  outlook  leads  him  to  emphasise, 
in  bold  black  and  white,  the  contrast  between  the  state 
of  sin  and  that  of  grace.  But  he  is  nowhere  guilty  of  the 
suggested  exaggeration.  Some  Corinthian  Christians  have 
actually  died,  he  says,  because  of  sins  (1  Cor.  xi.  30), 
though  this  premature  removal  was  a  fatherly  chastening 


1  No  act  of  sin  can  tend  straighter  towards  eternal  ruin  than  deliberate 
turning  away  from  the  Saviour  ;  yet  we  may  trust  that  the  solemn  words 
of  Christ,  backed  by  the  experience  of  centuries,  give  hope  even  here.  The 
needful  warning  of  the  epistle  has  hardened  into  an  over-definite  assertion. 
Has  not  the  epistle  itself  spoken  elsewhere  of  One  ‘  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  ’  1 


94 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


and  not  penal  (ver.  32) .  He  demands  that  the  same  church 
(v.  3-5)  shall  vote  in  confirmation  of  his  own  apostolic 
decree,  handing  over  to  Satan  the  hero  of  a  scandalous 
marriage  ;  again,  with  the  purpose  of  securing  ultimate 
salvation.  A  similar  situation  is  implied  at  1  Timothy 
i.  20.  Again,  grave  wrong  having  been  done  to  St.  Paul,1 
but  repentance  having  at  length  supervened,  Paul  has  to 
plead  that  the  whole  Church  will  join  with  him  in  forgiv¬ 
ing  the  offender  (2  Cor.  ii.  7-11).  The  clearest  passage  of 
all  is  Galatians  vi.  1,2.  In  the  ethical  section  at  the  close 
of  that  epistle  St.  Paul  enumerates  different  safeguards 
against  sin.  But,  ‘  if  ’  an  open  fault  occurs,  the  ‘  spiritual  ’ 
members  of  the  Church,  whose  communion  with  God  is 
unbroken,  must  humbly  restore  the  erring  one.  Thus 
Christians  may  ‘  bear  one  another’s  burdens.’ 

A  similar  demand  for  Christian  mediation  on  behalf 
of  wrong-doers  is  found  in  an  epistle  of  a  very  different  cast. 
St.  James  (v.  16)  requires  his  readers  to  confess  faults 
mutually,  and  pray  for  one  another  in  order  that  they 
may  be  ‘healed.’  The  closing  verses  (19,  20)  speak  of 
an  *  erring  ’  brother  who,  if  not  guilty  of  mortal  sin,  has 
been  drifting  perilously  near  destruction,  but  may  be 
rescued.  They  do  not  suggest  the  Pauline  view  that 
death  itself  might  be  remedial. 

Lastly,  under  this  head,  we  have  peculiarly  full  teach¬ 
ing  in  1  John.  This  epistle  might  seem,  more  than  any¬ 
thing  in  St.  Paul,  to  assert  the  essential  sinlessness  of  the 
Christian  (iii.  6,  9  ;  v.  18),  but  we  must  judge  every  author’s 
meaning  by  his  explicit  statements  on  the  point  at  issue. 
(1)  First  of  all,  there  is  the  dreadful  presence  of  sin  in 
human  life  before  it  is  mastered  by  Christ  (i.  10).  (2) 

Even  afterwards  there  is  need  of  confession  and  forgive¬ 
ness  (ver.  9).  Although  the  need  in  this  happier  period  is 
stated  in  less  emphatic  tones  (ver.  8),  still  only  self-deception, 

1  For  we  must  not  take  the  old  view  which  discovered  here  the  incestuous 
person  of  1  Corinthians  v. 


VIII.]  GENERAL  NEW  TESTAMENT  TEACHING 


95 


threatening  loss  of  4  the  truth,’  can  suppose  that  the  need 
is  non-existent.  (3)  We  are  to  cease  from  sin  ;  but,  4  if  7 
we  fall,  Jesus  intercedes — Jesus  the  propitiation  (ii.  1,  2) 
(4)  In  the  case  of  certain  open  but  not  fatal  wrong-doings, 
the  individual  Christian,  the  k  spiritual  ’  one  of  Galatians 
vi.  1,  is  to  intercede  and  obtain  mercy  for  his  fallen  brother 
(1  John  v.  16).  (5)  Sins  4  unto  death  ’  1  are  excluded. 

There  is  no  encouragement — if  also  no  direct  prohibition 
— to  intercede  for  such  cases  of  moral  disaster. 

We  must  thus  recognise  as  general  apostolic  teaching 
the  doctrine  of  the  intercession  with  God  (James,  1  John) 
of  the  spiritual  members  of  the  church,  or  their  direct 
action  on  the  wrong- doer  (Gal.,  James).  We  do  not  read 
that  the  church  as  a  church  should  undertake  this  duty  ; 
yet  St.  Paul  counts  it  possible  that  a  church  ought  to 
doom  a  member  to  supernatural  though  remedial  penalties 
(1  Cor.).  There  is  here  a  parallel  to  the  priestly  ideas  of 
later  ages,  along  with  a  striking  contrast.  There  may 
have  been  sacramental  ideas  in  the  minds  of  the  apostles 
or  apostolic  men  whose  words  we  are  studying  ;  sacer¬ 
dotal  belief,  in  a  close  corporation  of  authorised  mediators, 
had  no  existence.  If  pristine  purity  could  have  lasted, 
we  might  have  seen  through  the  centuries  brother  con¬ 
fessors,  brother  intercessors,  brother  mediators  with  God, 
bearing  one  another’s  burdens  and  fulfilling  the  law  of 
Christ.  It  ought  never  to  have  been  possible  for  a  sacer¬ 
dotal  caste  to  tyrannise  over  Christ’s  flock.2 

Another  feature  in  primitive  Christian  piety  contrasts 
not  only  with  later  sacerdotalism  but  with  later  evangeli¬ 
calism.  From  Augustine  downwards  the  temper  of  Chris¬ 
tian  evangelicalism  is,  as  Harnack  expresses  it,  4  sorrow  ’ 
but 4  sorrow  comforted.’  The  sinner,  even  when  regenerate 
and  midway  in  the  process  which  theology  calls  sanctifi- 

1  Apostasy  ?  Or  murder  and  adultery  as  well  ?  Or,  is  it  sin  followed 
sharply  by  physical  death  ? 

2  Early  Buddhism  had  a  similar  spirit,  which  has  given  place  not  (outside 
of  Tibet)  to  hierarchicalism  but  to  formality  and  deadness. 


96 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


cation,  is  one  who  4  daily  breaks  the  commandments  of 
God  in  thought,  word,  and  deed.’  1  Not  so  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment.  Even  according  to  St.  Paul,  doing  right  ranks 
as  normal.  The  requirement  of  the  law  4  is  fulfilled.’ 

We  need  say  nothing  further  about  minor  offences  in 
the  Christian  life.  Is  it  possible  for  maximum  offence  to 
be  committed  ?  Is  a  Christian  secure  for  all  the  future,2 
or  can  he  forfeit  grace  ?  The  universal  or  all  but  universal 
answer  of  the  New  Testament  is  that  he  is  in  a  state  of 
real  danger.  That  is  the  vehement  and  awestruck  burden  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  So  also  Jude  ;  so  also  2  Peter  ; 
so  also  St.  Paul  himself,  whether  in  Romans  xi.  (22)  or  in 
1  Corinthians  (ix.  27  ;  x.  4).  In  favour  of  a  more  Calvinistic 
interpretation  of  the  apostle’s  meaning  we  may  be  reminded 
of  his  inclination  to  regard  even  death  incurred  by  fault 
as  a  remedial  chastening.3  But  the  inference  suggested  is 
not  valid.  Paul  teaches  that  the  characteristic  and  typical 
working  of  punishment,  as  experienced  by  Christians,  is 
reclamation ;  and  again,  the  characteristic  and  typical 
development  of  a  Christian’s  heart  is  perseverance  till  the 
end.  But  St.  Paul  is  not  found  mechanically  excluding 
other  and  darker  possibilities.  He  refers  to  these,  in 
passages  already  cited,  by  no  means  in  the  tone  of  one 
contemplating  mere  theoretic  possibilities.  4  The  man,’ 
wrote  George  Bowen  of  Bombay,4  4  that  discards  the  word 
“  If  ”  from  his  theology  has  no  longer  a  Bible.’  This 
great  Bible  writer  retains  the  word  ‘  If,’  in  all  its  sombre 
meaning.  And  if  we  shrink  from 5  what  seems  to  us 

1  Westminster  Assembly’s  Shorter  Catechism. 

2  Compare  the  doctrine  of  Buddhism,  and  again  of  Stoicism. 

3  With  the  passages  given  on  p.  94,  note  also  2  Corinthians  x.  8  ;  xiii.  10. 

4  Daily  Meditations,  p.  214. 

5  The  document  in  regard  to  which  one  might  feel  doubt  is  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  ‘  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  ’  has  been 
plausibly  enough  interpreted  to  mean,  Once  received  never  again  rejected. 
Also  there  is  strong  emphasis  in  the  words  ‘hath  passed  from  death  unto 
life’ — words  which  impressed  John  M‘Leod  Campbell  so  greatly  when  he 
was  extending  a  tentative  half-recognition  to  Erskine’s  Universalism  (vi.  37, 
v.  24). 


VIII.]  GENERAL  NEW  TESTAMENT  TEACHING 


97 


a  dangerous  tendency  in  some  types  of  modern  evangeli¬ 
calism  to  view  human  souls  as  in  Christ  and  out  of  Christ 
alternately,  over  and  over  again — may  one  suggest  that 
the  subject  is  one  not  fitted  for  dogmatic  formulation  ? 

A  further  question  arises :  If  grace  is  once  lost,  can  it 
ever  be  restored  ?  As  we  all  know,  this  was  hotly  debated 
in  the  early  Church,  and  a  series  of  rigorist  4  heresies  ’ 
sought  to  maintain  the  severer  view.  Or  nearly  so : 
they  admitted  the  possibility  that  God  might  be  gracious  ; 
but  His  church  on  earth  dared  not  restore  the  blasphemer, 
the  adulterer,  the  murderer.  The  great  Church  more  and 
more  boldly  took  the  opposite  view.  Catholic  and  Pro¬ 
testant  orthodoxies  both  concur.  The  churches  forgive 
all  manner  of  guilt ;  much  more  will  Christ,  for  whom  the 
church  speaks,  receive  the  penitent  to  full  mercy  even  to 
the  uttermost.  In  this  case  the  letter  of  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment — in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews — is  on  the  side  of 
the  rigorists  ;  just  as  the  letter  of  the  New  Testament — in 
the  Epistle  of  James — favours  the  denial  of  salvation  by 
faith  4  alone.’  1  John  also,  if  it  raises  rather  than  settles 
the  question,  inclines  upon  the  whole  towards  severity.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  logic  of  St.  Paul’s  thinking  is  likely 
to  incline  him  to  mercy.  If  there  is  4  no  distinction  ’  in 
sin,  any  movement  of  genuine  penitence  may  surely  win 
acceptance.  When  a  Christian  delivered  4  to  Satan  ’  is  still 
to  be  saved,  what  case  can  be  hopeless  ? 

The  great  church  passages  (Matt.  xvi.  18,  19  ;  xviii. 
17  ;  John  xx.  22)  suggest  to  us  that  the  doctrine  of  a  media¬ 
torial  church  is  beginning  to  affect  even  the  record  of 
Christ’s  words.  Comparative  criticism  of  the  Synoptics, 
and  the  pressure  of  the  Roman  controversy,  have  led  many 
to-day  to  question  the  reliableness  of  the  Single  Tradition 
in  Matthew  xvi.  Not  improbably  the  Johannine  parallel 
— which  places  all  the  apostles  where  Matthew  places  Simon 
Peter  alone — also  betrays  the  colouring  of  a  later  genera¬ 
tion.  No  distinction  is  drawn  in  these  passages  between 

G 


98 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


pre-baptismal  and  post-baptismal  sin.  All  sins  seem  to  be 
covered  by  the  language.  Nor  could  a  modern  Christian, 
however  intense  his  biblical  orthodoxy,  revive  the  doctrine 
of  a  pure  Church  where  one  lapse  was  to  involve  per¬ 
manent  excommunication.  Still  less  could  he  dare  to 
hold  that  any  sin  was  beyond  the  mercy  of  God. 


IX.] 


THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 


99 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 

In  Church  theology  we  find  an  emphasis  and  an  elabora¬ 
tion  which  even  St.  Paul,  most  theological  of  Bible  writers, 
fails  to  exhibit.  The  statement  very  manifestly  holds 
good  of  the  doctrine  of  sin.  In  order  to  justify  the 
increasing  stringency  of  definition,  it  is  sometimes  pleaded 
that  the  new  conclusions  emerge  by  ‘  good  and  necessary 
consequence  ’  from  the  old  biblical  data.  How  often  has 
Calvinism,  in  more  dogmatic  generations,  insisted  on  the 
assertion  that  disputing  its  conclusions  means  logical 
incoherence !  We  must  test  this  claim  in  a  rapid — and, 
of  course,  extremely  incomplete — historical  review.  Does 
Calvinism  itself  preserve  all  that  is  logically  suggested  ? 
And  does  it  omit  everything  that  is  logically  discredited  ? 
Any  real  quarrel  with  logic  would  be  indeed  a  betrayal  of 
truth  ;  but  the  hints  and  half-lights  of  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment  are  not  used  for  the  edification  of  the  Church  when 
they  are  treated  as  a  lawyer  treats  his  documents.  Not 
by  such  mechanical  methods  can  we  do  honour  to  revela¬ 
tion. 

The  Greek  Church  is  not  pre-eminently  interested  in  the 
doctrine  of  sin.  When  it  thinks  of  redemption,  it  is  more 
concerned  with  physical  immortality  than  with  forgive¬ 
ness.  If  it  turns  to  the  inner  fife  of  the  soul,  it  desires 
to  champion  freewill  against  naturalism  rather  than  to 
weigh  the  facts  of  guilt.  Still,  one  important  step  was 
taken  when  the  Pauline  paradoxes  about  law  were  dropped, 


100 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


and  when  the  insight  of  St.  Paul’s  genius  was  simultane¬ 
ously  forfeited.  Henceforward  the  official  theology  of  all 
the  churches  interprets  the  relation  of  God  to  man  in 
terms  of  law,  the  West  building  higher  and  ever  higher  on 
foundations  laid  in  the  East. 

Yet  this  could  not  be  the  whole  state  of  the  case.  The 
Greek  Church  possessed  in  its  own  language  the  originals 
of  the  Pauline  epistles.  It  also  possessed  the  early 
chapters  of  Genesis,  and  placed  their  authority  very  high, 
though  a  tendency  to  allegorise  prevented  the  ruthless 
dogmatic  use  made  of  these  chapters  in  the  Christian  West. 
In  Dr.  Tennant’s  judgment  Origen,  the  most  original  mind 
of  the  Christian  East,  based  a  doctrine  of  natal  impurity 
upon  Psalm  li  and  upon  the  growing  practice  of  infant 
baptism.  Again,  in  commenting  on  Romans  v,  Origen 
approaches  somewhat  near  to  St.  Paul’s  genuine  theology. 
But  his  chief  contribution  to  hamartiology  is  the  assertion 
of  a  fall  of  souls  during  a  state  of  pre-existence.  This 
speculation  safeguards  freewill  and  responsibility  while 
fully  recognising  the  fact  of  guilt.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
ignores  the  unity  of  mankind.  It  shows  us  probation  pro¬ 
ceeding  on  innumerable  parallel  lines,  but  knows  nothing 
of  one  danger  and  one  victory.  The  ingenious  audacity 
gained  few  supporters,  and  was  finally  branded  as  heresy. 

Again,  Dr.  Tennant’s  analysis  reports  that  a  Western 
(though  Greek-writing)  pioneer,  Irenseus,  travelled  along 
lines  of  his  own  to  a  doctrine  of  the  Fall  and  of  original 
sin,  his  use  of  Romans  v  being  of  the  nature  of  an  after¬ 
thought.  More  striking  if  not  more  important  than  Iren- 
seus  is  the  vehement  and  ill-balanced  genius  of  Tertullian, 
with  its  intense  legalist  morality.  While  characteristically 
denouncing  philosophy,  Tertullian  is  largely  influenced 
by  his  training  in  Stoicism.  He  is  Stoical  in  teaching 
the  materiality  of  God  and  of  the  human  soul,  and  the 
traducianist  propagation  of  the  latter  along  with  the 
body.  Naturally,  therefore,  he  teaches  that  sin  too  is 


IX.] 


THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 


101 


inherited,1  not  prenatally  acquired  by  individual  guilt. 
But  he  is  no  systematic  thinker.  While  others,  before  and 
after  him,  connect  the  doctrine  of  original  sin  with  infant 
baptism,  Tertullian  regards  the  latter  as  an  imprudent 
squandering  of  life’s  one  great  chance  of  forgiveness. 
Very  few  distinguished  names  accept  traducianism.  Even 
Augustine  declines  to  dogmatise  on  the  matter.  Have 
we  not  here  one  doctrine  in  which  caution  has  ruled 
rather  than  remorseless  logic  ?  Creationism  has  held  the 
field,  defying  hamartiological  probabilities.  Are  we  to 
teach  original  sin,  yet  believe  that  each  soul  is  created 
independently  by  a  God  who  loves  purity  ?  And  are 
we  to  explain  that  each  soul  as  it  enters  the  body  is  stained 
with  the  indelible  dye  of  sin,  not  by  physical  contact  but 
by  God’s  strange  choice  ?  A  theology  which  walks  right 
up  to  the  traducianist  dogma  and  then  shrinks  back  is 
but  little  entitled  to  brag  of  its  logical  pre-eminence. 

Omitting  for  brevity  even  so  distinguished  a  name  as 
Ambrose,  we  pass  to  the  yet  greater  name  of  Augustine. 
Whatever  advance  had  been  made  towards  the  hamarti- 
ology  of  the  West  by  earlier  Latin  fathers,  infinitely  more 
was  due  to  this  great  genius  and  true  saint.  From  his 
mind  and  heart — under  God,  and  in  subordination  among 
human  masters  only  to  St.  Paul — issue  the  evangelical 
doctrines  of  sin  and  salvation  which  fertilise  later  ages. 
From  him  also  emerge  the  moral  perplexities  connected  with 
these  doctrines,  to  torment  the  human  conscience. 

Even  independently  of  controversy  with  Pelagius, 
Augustine  represents  the  first  of  the  great  Pauline  reactions 
of  Church  History.  Whatever  in  the  Catholic  theology 
has  grown  out  of  Paulinism,  great  tracts  of  Pauline  thought 
have  been  a  sealed  book  to  the  Catholic  mind  whether  in 
East  or  West.  The  book  is  opened,  and  its  contents  work 
with  explosive  power,  in  Augustinianism,  in  the  Pro- 

1  It  seems  to  be  incorrect  to  say  that  Tertullian  speaks  of  peccatum 
originate  (Hagenbach).  His  phrase  is  vitium  originis. 


102 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


testant  Reformation,  in  the  Evangelical  Revival.  A 
second  master  mind,  like  St.  Paul’s  though  with  many 
differences,  passes  through  a  deep  religious  crisis,  and  in 
finding  salvation  finds  also  a  gospel  for  the  world.  This 
is  Augustine’s  greatest  glory — not  that  he  was  a  genius,  but 
that  he  came  by  terrible  ways  to  know  God  and  the  reality 
of  salvation.  In  defeating  Pelagius  he  set  the  West  at 
variance  with  what  the  East  had  been  prepared  to  welcome 
as  excellent  freewill  doctrine  (though  unbalanced  by 
mystical  theories  of  redemption).  He  may  seem  to  be 
recoiling  a  great  way  towards  his  earlier  Manichseism  ;  but 
Augustine  is  delivering  his  deepest  Christian  convictions. 

Wrapped  round  this  gospel,  more  closely  even  than  round 
St.  Paul’s,  is  a  great  theological  system.  We  may  trace 
several  motives  concurring  to  shape  Augustine’s  doctrine 
of  sin  and  salvation.  First,  there  is  the  hamartiological 
motive  proper,  given  in  a  dread  personal  experience  of 
helpless  guilt.  Secondly,  there  is  experience  of  the 
healing  touch  of  divine  grace,  when  the  soul  says,  Not  I 
but  God.  Perhaps  Augustine  never  learned  to  say  with 
equal  significance,  Not  I  but  Christ.  Far  back,  behind 
doctrines'  and  ordinances,  stood  Christ  and  His  work. 
Immediacy  of  access  to  Him  was  denied.  Happily,  there 
was  still  a  sense  of  immediate  access  to  God.  And  in  this 
Augustine  possessed  the  central  truth  of  evangelicalism. 
A  man  does  not  save  himself ;  God  saves  him.  But  in 
Augustine  this  truth  is  linked  with  predestinarian  teachings. 
The  hamartiological  doctrine — sinful  man  is  helpless — 
passes  into  the  religious  thought  of  a  God  who  does  all 
things.  And  that  in  turn,  thirdly,  takes  on  speculative 
elements.  Augustine’s  4  theology  proper  ’  is  not  always 
directly  religious.  If  one  reads  even  the  short  treatise 
which,  according  to  Harnack,  so  well  reveals  Augustine 
the  Catholic — if  one  reads  the  Enchiridion — one  is  struck 
with  the  favourite  quotation  :  4  Our  God  is  in  the  heavens  ; 
he  hath  done  whatsoever  it  hath  pleased  him.’  A  philo- 


IX.] 


THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 


103 


sophical  faith  in  the  supreme  will  blends  with  Christian 
faith  in  the  supreme  grace.  We  moderns  have  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  the  two.  Fourthly,  there  is  the  sacramental 
motive.  Notably  in  controversy  with  Pelagius,  Augustine 
appeals  to  the  now  established  practice  of  infant  baptism. 
Beyond  this,  he  has  to  keep  in  view  the  whole  Church 
system.  He  must  be  loyal  not  only  to  experience  but  to 
the  society  which  introduced  him  to  the  gospel,  the 
organised  Church.  In  this  he  contrasts  with  other  evan¬ 
gelical  champions.  St.  Paul  worked  before  the  Church 
was  a  fully  developed  institution.  The  Reformers  worked 
and  struggled  while  the  Church  was  suffering  disruption. 

The  outline  of  doctrine  is  sharpened  in  several  respects. 
First,  St.  Paul’s  sinful  humanity,  which  yearns  for  release 
and  beats  itself  against  its  prison  bars,  has  become  a  mere 
massa  perditionis.  If  St.  Paul  sometimes  at  least  recog¬ 
nises  pagan  virtues,  Augustine  is  to  be  baffled  by  no 
awkward  facts.  Such  virtues  are  merely  specious  sins.1 
This  is  a  typical  specimen  of  blind  loyalty  to  logic.  If 
God,  if  Christ,  is  absolutely  necessary,  how  dare  we  recog¬ 
nise  non-Christian  virtue  ?  Yes,  but  if  God  has  bestowed 
virtues  on  His  non-Christian  children,  how  dare  we  give 
the  lie  to  God  ? 

Secondly,  we  find  clearer  definitions  about  Adam  and 
about  freewill.  The  latter  technical  term,  not  found  in 
St.  Paul,2  plays  a  great  part  in  Augustine’s  discussions. 
Adam  possessed  and  lost  the  freedom  which  consists  in 
power  to  do  right.  He  possessed  and  transmitted,  but 
transmitted  disastrously  impaired,  power  to  choose.3 
There  is  a  valuable  rebuke  here,  apart  from  entanglement 
in  the  unhistorical  figure  of  Adam  and  in  the  unsatis¬ 
factory  theodicy  based  upon  him,  for  those  in  any  age  who 
airily  dispose  of  dark  fears  by  a  reference  to  freewill. 

1  It  seems  that  the  phrase  splendida  vitia  is  not  actually  in  Augustine 
but  its  sense  is. 

2  Said  to  have  been  made  current  by  Tertullian. 

3  What  Julius  Muller  calls  ‘  Formal  Freedom.’  See  Chapter  xi. 


104 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Yet  the  unfortunate  general  outcome  is  that  Adam  was 
responsible  because  free,  and  that  we  are  unfree  though 
responsible.  Moral  difficulties  are  taking  shape  which 
cannot  be  proved  to  encumber  the  less  elaborated  .state¬ 
ments  of  Paul. 

Thirdly,  there  comes  to  be  definitely  taught  a  trans¬ 
mission  of  sin  from  Adam.  Partly  this  means  trans¬ 
mission  of  guilt.  In  the  formulated  Roman  Catholic 
system,  baptism  removes  the  guilt  of  original  sin.  But 
original  sin  also  implies  transmission  of  what  theology  calls 
‘  habitual 5  sin  ;  and  Harnack  repeatedly  warns  us  that 
this  doctrine  is  brought  into  unpleasant  connection  with 
the  facts  of  sexual  reproduction. 

Fourthly,  grace,  the  remedy  for  sin,  is  sacramental. 
Baptism  is  no  longer  confined  to  adults  ;  it  is  a  thing  for 
infants  ;  and  the  benefits  of  baptism  (Rom.  vi)  take  on  an 
aspect  of  which  St.  Paul  could  not  have  dreamed.  Even 
St.  Paul’s  ascriptions  of  deliverance  from  guilt  to  justify¬ 
ing  faith  lose  their  meaning  for  a  theology  which  under¬ 
stands  by  justification  the  process  in  which  character  is 
renewed.  What  baptism  begins,  other  sacraments  con¬ 
tinue. 

Fifthly,  Augustine  definitely  teaches  the  possibility  of 
lapsing  from  a  state  of  grace.  This  view  may  be  neces¬ 
sarily  involved  in  sacramentalism.  If  grace  definitely 
comes  through  such  channels,  it  would  be  glaringly  immoral 
to  affirm  that,  once  received,  it  guarantees  eternal  salva¬ 
tion.  On  the  other  hand,  amissibility  of  grace  appears 
inconsistent  with  Augustine’s  assertion  of  predestination. 
The  latter  doctrine  implies  absolute  grace,  against  which 
nothing  stands ;  the  doctrine  we  are  noting  teaches 
conditional  grace  promised  to  the  right  use  of  means. 
When  Augustine  is  catholicised  by  later  ages,  effect  is 
given  to  one  side  of  his  teaching  at  the  expense  of  other 
elements.  Yet  perhaps  this  grace,  which  may  be  had 
and  then  lost  again,  is  not  for  Augustine  grace  in  the 


IX.] 


THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 


105 


deepest  sense.  He  appears  to  calvinise  upon  the  grace  of 
perseverance.  It  is  that  which  is  called  ‘  irresistible.’ 
Is  this,  and  this  alone,  grace  indeed  ;  this  which  God’s 
hidden  will  regulates  ?  Do  we  see  even  in  Augustine  the 
process  by  which  predestinarian  belief  ‘  destroys  the 
thought  of  the  Church  ’  ? 

It  should  be  added  that  evangelicals  will  misapprehend 
not  merely  Augustine’s  teaching,  but  the  better  elements 
in  Catholicism  throughout  the  ages,  unless  they  under¬ 
stand  that  sacraments  are  viewed  as  directly  embody¬ 
ing  God’s  goodwill  and  His  purpose  to  save.  Yet  how 
treacherous  an  embodiment  they  are  ! 

We  pass  with  a  single  leap  to  the  Reformation.  Again 
we  see  a  great  soul  making  history  by  his  inner  conflicts. 
To  Luther,  more  definitely  than  to  Augustine,  deliverance 
came  through  the  words  of  St.  Paul.  Erasmus  may  seem 
to  us  as  ruthlessly  handled  as  Pelagius  ;  perhaps  the 
historian  will  add — it  was  quite  as  necessary.  But  the 
Lutheran  Church,  while  strongly  evangelical  in  its  view  of 
grace,  is  soon  found  dropping  predestinarianism.  We 
must  look  to  Calvinist  theology  for  the  typical  Protestant 
positions ;  and  even  Calvinism  will  not  long  endure  in 
pristine  strength  or  unmixed  purity. 

(1)  Protestantism  emphasises  guilt,  and  the  promises 
of  escape  by  justifying  faith  in  Christ’s  atonement. 

(2)  Calvinism  does  on  system  what  Luther  did  for 
a  time.  It  makes  grace  non-sacramental.  It  denies  any 
specific  blessing  beyond  what  is  found  in  the  Word.  Luther 
and  Lutheranism  teach  that  baptism  is  needed,  and  re¬ 
generates.  It  bewilders  those  of  other  communions  to 
find  these  positions  combined  with  the  primary  assertion 
of  justification  by  faith  alone. 

(3)  Post-reformation  debate  raises  the  issue  between 
‘  mediate  ’  and  ‘  immediate  imputation  ’  of  Adam’s  sin. 
Placaeus  of  Saumur,  one  of  a  lax  and  suspected  school, 


106 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[cn. 


offered  the  first  of  these  as  a  satisfactory  formula ;  but 
orthodoxy,  Calvinist  and  Lutheran  alike,  insisted  on 
immediate  imputation.  And  surely  this  harmonises  better 
with  Romans  v,  and  is  also  franker  than  the  alternative 
view.  If  ex  hypothesi  Adam’s  sin  renders  his  posterity 
morally  helpless  from  the  first,  what  is  gained  by  saying 
that  their  helpless  acts  4  mediately  ’  involve  the  guilt  of 
his  all-determining  act  ?  In  a  sense,  the  affirmation  of 
immediate  responsibility  for  Adam’s  first  sin  is  the  dogmatic 
climax  of  hamartiology. 

(4)  Probably  the  Federal  theology — covenant  of  works, 
with  Adam  ;  covenant  of  grace,  with  Christ — describes 
these  findings  better  than  any  other  terminology  could  do. 
While  later  in  origin,  and  capable  of  being  forced  into  the 
service  of  other  systems,  that  language  naturally  expresses 
the  very  spirit  of  Protestant  Augustinianism. 

(5)  Yet  another  controversy  arose  among  the  Reformed 
— the  Lutherans  having  denied  in  toto  absolute  predestina¬ 
tion — whether  the  divine  decree  appoints  men’s  eternal 
lot  independently  of  the  fall  of  Adam  (supralapsarianism 
of  Gomarus  and  the  school  of  Leyden ;  in  England, 
Twisse)  or  is  only  to  be  interpreted  as  dealing,  by  way  of 
punishment  or  of  redemption,  with  the  consequences  of 
Adam’s  sin  (Infralapsarian  or  Sublapsarian  orthodoxy  of 
the  school  of  Dort).  Strangely  enough  in  such  an  age, 
neither  party  succeeded  in  ostracising  the  other  ;  but  the 
second  doctrine,  which  was  regarded  as  milder,  was  gene¬ 
rally  accepted  as  safer.  Once  again  the  orthodoxy,  which 
so  loudly  blamed  in  others  any  disregard  of  4  good  and 
necessary  consequence,’  lacked  the  courage  of  its  own 
logic.  But,  if  infralapsarianism  sets  aside  the  speculative 
motive  for  belief  in  foreordination,  it  has  to  lay  all  the 
more  stress  upon  the  hamartiological  motive.  As  soon 
as  mankind  is  sinful — then,  although  not  till  then — God 
may  arbitrarily  dispose  of  the  eternal  destinies  of  indi¬ 
viduals.  While  the  vessels  are  not  yet  4  fitted  for  de- 


IX.] 


THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 


107 


struction,’  infralapsarianism  thinks  it  wiser  to  keep  silence. 
Thus  the  supposed  theodicy  based  upon  Adam’s  freewill 
is  built  into  the  very  fabric  of  Calvinism  as  ordinarily  pro¬ 
fessed.  Will  history  admit  the  existence  of  such  a  person 
as  Adam  ?  Will  conscience  tolerate  his  holding  such  a 
place  as  representative  (by  ‘  covenant  ’)  of  all  mankind  ? 

Twice  over,  then,  if  not  oftener,  orthodoxy  has  been 
deaf  to  logic.  In  the  general  rejection  of  tradueianism, 
and  in  the  distaste  for  supralapsarianism  among  the 
Calvinistic  6lite,  we  see  the  remorseless  exploiters  of  the 
logic  of  human  sin  trembling,  hesitating,  falling  back  on 
compromise.  But,  if  at  these  points,  why  not  elsewhere  ? 
If  theology  fears — reasonably  enough — to  shed  one  drop 
of  blood,  can  it  claim  from  the  tormented  mind  and  the 
outraged  conscience  its  full  pound  of  flesh  ?  Many  years 
ago,  when  fighting  for  life  as  a  Christian,  and  for  liberty 
as  a  preacher  from  the  fetters  of  a  seventeenth  century 
creed,  1  noted  the  plea  of  ‘  mystery  ’  on  behalf  of  Calvinism 
when  taxed  with  immoral  consequences,  and  made  the 
retort,  c  Could  you  not  have  thought  of  this  a  little  sooner  ?  ’ 
I  still  hold  that  the  retort  was  just. 

By  this  time  we  have  passed  the  historical  watershed. 
The  tide  of  logical  inference  had  risen  to  its  fullest  in  the 
Protestant  scholasticism,  threatening  to  drown  out  the 
faith  and  life  it  was  meant  to  serve.  Since  then  it  has 
receded  and  is  still  going  back.  Yet  there  was  one  other 
proposal,  more  extravagant  than  any  we  have  yet  noted, 
which  was  put  forward  by  orthodoxy  at  a  later  period. 
Had  it  made  headway,  we  must  have  recognised  it  as  the 
real  climax  in  doctrine.  I  refer  to  Jonathan  Edwards’s 
reduction  of  Calvinism  to  a  basis  of  philosophical  deter¬ 
minism.  Here  the  new  world  takes  part  in  the  problems 
of  the  old.  Its  representative  is  one  of  its  greatest  sons — 
a  genius  and  a  saint,  not  unworthy  to  be  classed,  if  at 
a  lower  level,  with  Paul  or  Augustine  or  Luther.  Edwrards 


108 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


met  with  little  support.  But  he  made  one  illustrious 
disciple.  The  noble  Scottish  Church  leader,  Thomas 
Chalmers,  most  human  and  lovable  of  all  the  men  of  the 
Evangelical  Revival,  startles  us  by  appearing  as  an 
extremist  at  this  point.  As  a  whole,  Augustinian  orthodoxy 
in  the  past  had  presupposed  libertarianism.  As  a  whole, 
it  declined  to  do  otherwise,  even  in  face  of  Edwards’s  or 
Chalmers’s  arguments. 

We  know  how  critics  from  outside  take  for  granted  that 
Calvinism  must  imply  determinism.  More  than  that ;  such 
critics  often  tell  us  that,  in  any  theology,  freewill  is  a  paltry 
evasion.  Nevertheless  I  am  inclined  to  hold  that  Calvinism 
was  well  advised  in  repelling  determinism.  Unquestion¬ 
ably,  we  might  simplify  our  systems  of  belief  to  a  very 
great  degree  if  we  could  hold  that  men  were  but  the  puppets 
of  God’s  good  pleasure,  and  that  mechanism  was  universal. 
But  surely  more  would  disappear  in  this  rearrangement 
than  the  inherited  theodicy  in  terms  of  Adam’s  sin. 
Would  not  the  very  doctrine  of  sin  disappear  ?  Nay, 
might  not  Christianity  itself  vanish  ? 

Only  one  further  step  was  possible  :  to  make  the  frank 
admission — which  was  far  from  the  thoughts  of  Edwards 
or  Chalmers — that  God  is  indeed  the  author  of  sin.  Low 
as  orthodoxy  sank  at  times,  it  never  accepted  this  among 
the  consequences  of  its  logic.  Its  machinery  for  ‘  putting 
all  the  blame  of  sin  upon  the  finite  ’  might  creak  and 
groan,  but  it  was  well  meant.  Behind  it  there  was  a 
saving  sense  of  responsibility  in  man  and  reverence  towards 
God.  It  remained  for  Schleiermacher  to  play  with  the 
assertion,  and  for  a  living  critical  theologian,  by  no 
means  an  extremist — Dr.  Carl  Clemen — to  urge  it  roundly 
in  his  monograph  on  sin  (vol.  i. ;  the  Biblical  Doctrine).1 

1  When  he  published  this  uncompleted  fragment,  Dr.  Clemen  wrote  as  a 
libertarian,  though  he  has  since  announced  himself  as  a  determinist  in  his 
critique  of  Dr.  Tennant  in  Theol.  Literaturzeitung .  Professor  Otto  Ritschl, 
son  and  biographer  of  Albrecht  Ritschl,  has  also  professed  determiniem. 


IX.] 


THE  DOGMATIC  CLIMAX 


109 


This  thesis  is  among  the  conclusions  which  critics  of 
Calvinism  have  always  imputed  to  its  logic.  Calvinists 
have  always  disowned  it.  And  now  comes  forward  one 
who  is  no  Calvinist  but  a  modern  man,  overpowered  by 
the  naturalistic  prejudices  which  science  generates.  He 
unhesitatingly  draws  the  appalling  inference.  Sin  is  the 
work  of  God — how  else  ? 

No  one  is  so  blind  as  not  to  see  the  logical  probability 
which  culminates  in  this  conclusion.  Is  any  one  so  dead 
in  conscience  as  to  receive  it  without  the  severest  inner 
repugnance  ?  Once  more :  if  we  cannot  accept  the 
extremer  possible  deductions  from  the  thought  of  God  or 
from  the  fact  of  sin,  is  it  not  well  to  take  other  forces  than 
logic  into  counsel  when  we  are  drawing  inferences  in  an 
obscure  region  of  half  comprehended  truths  ?  Must  not 
3ur  basis  be  ethical  ?  1 

The  claim  is  made  by  hierarchical  churches,  or  by  Dr. 
Schechter  for  the  synagogue,  that  they  have  wonderfully 
avoided  ‘  the  falsehood  of  extremes.’  Perhaps  the  fact, 
so  far  as  it  is  one,  is  due  rather  to  the  luck  than  to  the 
skill  or  the  merit  of  the  legalist  communions.  They  had 
the  good  fortune  to  frame  no  binding  creed  while  sin  was 
a  burning  centre  of  debate.  Augustine  was  not  related 
to  any  ecumenical  symbol  as  Athanasius  was.  Partly  too 
perhaps,  their  wisdom  has  been  worldly  rather  than  spiritual. 
Have  they  solved  the  problems  or  evaded  them  ?  Is  not 
their  course  laid  ‘  between  the  Scylla  and  Charybdis  of 
aye  and  no  ’  ?  For  spiritual  insight  we  must  turn  rather 
to  the  great  extravagant  souls — to  Augustine,  to  Luther, 
perhaps  even  to  St.  Paul.  Their  systematisers  in  later 
generations  too  frequently  intensify  the  extravagance  and 
lose  the  insight. 

1  When  Clemen  quotes  early  Old  Testament  passages  regarding  divine 
causation  of  sin,  is  he  not  asking  us  to  go  back  from  ethical  to  pre-ethical 
stages  of  thought  ? 


110 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


It  is  startling  enough  to  realise  how  largely  the  life  of 
Christianity  has  been  bound  up  with  terrible  and  oppressive 
doctrines.  Again  and  again  these  have  been  offered  to 
the  world  as  the  obverse  to  the  truth  of  God’s  victorious 
grace  in  Christ ;  sometimes,  to  the  truth  of  God’s  eternal 
power  and  Godhead.  Age  after  age,  evangelicalism,  seeking 
to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  Paul,  has  worked  out  a  hardened 
and  sharpened  dogma  of  human  worthlessness — since  the 
Fall.  This  heavy  shadow  has  been  cast  by  the  strong 
light  of  the  Pauline  gospel. 

Not  without  risk  can  we  break  with  Augustinianism. 
But  what  choice  have  we  ?  How  can  we  tempt  God, 
to  bind  upon  the  neck  of  others  a  yoke  which  neither  we 
nor  our  fathers  were  able  to  bear  ?  But  we  believe  that 
through  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  we  shall  be  saved , 
even  as  they. 


X.] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


111 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 

To  any  doctrine  of  sin  which  is  to  be  valid  for  Christians, 
conscience  must  assent.  Revelation  and  the  experience 
of  communion  with  God  may  modify,  deepen,  transform. 
But  they  cannot  create  the  first  beginnings  in  this  region. 
The  Bible  addressed  itself  to  men  who  knew — or  who 
might  and  ought  to  have  known — that  they  were  sinners. 
There  is  a  danger  of  being  too  much  occupied  with  negative 
values,  and  theology  has  suffered  not  a  little  in  that  way. 
Yet  assuredly  something  is  to  be  learned  from  a  doctrine 
of  sin,  and  from  its  philosophical  basis. 

We  must  confine  our  brief  review  to  modern  times. 
Christianity  entered  into  alliance  with  some  of  the  ancient 
philosophies,  notably  in  ethics  with  Stoicism.  And  we 
must  confess  that  the  same  problems  reappear  in  the 
modern  as  in  the  ancient  mind.  In  a  sense,  the  solutions 
will  be  identical;  they  are  at  least  continuous.  Yet 
both  as  moderns,  and  as  Christians,  ethical  philosophers 
have  rightly  felt  that  they  had  to  do  their  own 
work  of  exploration  in  the  moral  consciousness.  We  shall 
notice  three  great  names  :  Butler,  Kant,  T.  H.  Green. 
It  would  be  easy  to  add  others ;  but  probably,  if  time 
permitted,  one  could  show  that  no  other  thinker,  from  our 
point  of  view,  attains  to  the  first  three.  The  group  of 
related  ideas  which  we  are  studying  are  such  as  these — 
Personality  (including  personal  identity),  freewill,  re¬ 
sponsibility  or  conscience,  (then,  passing  into  negative 


112 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[oh. 


values)  guilt,  punishment.  A  philosophy  which  has  not 
risen  to  such  thoughts  is  non-Christian.  A  philosophy 
which  claims  to  rise  above  these  ceases  to  be  Christian. 
Another  connection  of  a  curious  kind  links  together  our 
three  chosen  authorities.  They  all  in  different  ways  give 
in  allegiance  to  idealism.  They  believe  in  a  metaphysical 
basis  of  ethics.  Duty  is  obedience  to  reason  or  to  ‘  Nature.’ 
It  is  true  that  Butler  and  Kant  largely  dissociate  ethics 
from  the  uncertainties  of  metaphysics.  Not  so  Green  ;  yet 
his  case  inevitably  raises  in  one’s  mind  the  doubt  whether 
the  ‘  metaphysic  of  knowledge  *  on  which  he  relies  really 
carries  the  structure  of  his  ethical  creed.  What  happened 
between  the  earlier  and  the  later  Deists,  or  between  Carlyle 
and  (say)  Emerson,  happens  again  between  Green  and 
most  of  his  neo-Kantian  or  neo-Hegelian  comrades.  The 
pattern  bleaches  out.  Earnestness  diminishes,  and  the 
thought  of  sin  is  lost. 

Butler  was  a  man  of  profound  moral  earnestness,  living 
in  a  shallow  and  frivolous  age.  All  his  work  is  done  in 
the  temper  of  an  apologist.  It  might  be  true  if  harsh  to 
say  that  he  suffers  from  a  certain  narrowness  of  concen¬ 
tration.  Had  he  studied  the  psychology  of  the  moral 
nature  as  a  scientific  problem,  had  he  stated  the  ‘  proper 
proofs  of  religion  ’  rather  than  sought  to  commend  it  on 
the  cheapest  possible  terms,  he  might  have  achieved  even 
greater  things. 

He  is  remarkable  for  a  habit  of  what  may  be  called  under¬ 
playing.  He  believes  in  Samuel  Clarke’s  old-fashioned 
metaphysical  ethics,  but  he  waives  them  in  debate.  In 
the  Analogy  he  ‘  chooses  to  decline  matters  of  such  abstract 
speculation.’  1  In  the  Three  Sermons  he  studies  ‘  human 
nature,’  rather  than  ‘  nature,’  or  the  ‘  abstract  relations  of 
things.’  Ye  'll  tak '  the  high  road  and  I  'll  tak '  the  laigh  road. 

1  ‘  And  to  speak  with  caution  wheu  one  does  speak  of  them.’ — I.  ri., 
footnote. 


X.] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


113 


But  also,  I  'll  be  in  Scotland  afore  ye.  The  humbler  line  of 
argument  is  to  prove  equally  good  and  more  generally 
effective.  There  are  metaphysics — other  people  may 
write  about  them.  There  are  plain  facts  of  experience, 
which  no  man  can  doubt ;  better  prefer  these.  Has  he 
not  missed  a  tertium  quid,  which  would  have  served  him 
best  of  all  ?  Does  not  his  strength  lie  in  bearing  witness 
to  moral  experiences  ?  These  are  not  confined  to  meta¬ 
physicians  ;  but  neither  are  they  written  up  in  glaring 
black  and  white. 

One  result  of  Butler’s  choice  is  that  he  does  not  dwell  on 
4  the  proper  motives  to  (natural)  religion.’ 1  He  descends 
to  lower  levels  of  argument.  He  defends  the  fear  of  God 
now  by  pointing  to  the  facts  of  man’s  inward  moral 
constitution,  now  by  studying  the  facts  of  man’s  history 
and  the  moral  environment.  Butler  may  well  be  styled 
a  prophet  of  the  conscience ;  yet  he  is  one  who  rarely 
allows  himself  liberty  of  prophesying.  Does  conscience 
mean  God  ?  4  This  part  of  the  office  of  conscience  is 

beyond  my  present  design  explicitly  to  consider.’  2 

It  is  noteworthy  that  the  Three  Sermons  have  a  text, 
and  a  very  Stoical  text,3  from  St.  Paul.  They  are  aimed 
against  a  prejudice  diffused  by  Hobbes,  that  man  is  neces¬ 
sarily  swayed  by  pure  egoistic  selfishness.  First,  Butler 
replies,  we  have  animal  passions.  Our  c  particular  propen¬ 
sions  ’  do  not  aim  at  pleasure,  but  at  the  objects  they  crave 
as  if  by  instinct.  Part  of  our  nature  is  therefore  below 
the  intellectual  level  of  consistent  selfishness.  Secondly, 
there  is  a  higher  part  of  our  nature — rational  self-love. 
Nor  is  this  the  only  higher  part  of  our  nature.  Benevo¬ 
lence,  thirdly,  is  a  plain  fact  of  4  natural  history.’  4  No 
sophistries  can  hide  it.  And  fourthly,  conscience,  a  reflec- 

1  Analogy ,  Part  I.  conclusion,  last  sentence. 

2  Sermon  ii. 

3  The  corresponding  section  of  the  Analogy ,  Dissertation  ii.,  quotes 
Epictetus  by  name.  Now  Butler  quotes  few  writers,  ancient  or  modern. 

4  Sermon  i.,  footnote. 

H 


114  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

tive  principle,  approving  or  condemning  motives  and  acts, 
speaks  for  itself,  and  demands  supremacy. 

This  ground  plan  of  the  moral  nature  omits  two  prin¬ 
ciples  which  bulk  largely  in  the  Analogy — veracity  and 
justice.  Butler  has  different  tasks  in  view  in  the  two 
books.  The  Sermons  prove  the  psychological  existence 
of  benevolence ;  the  Analogy  —  covertly  elsewhere, 
frankly  in  Diss.  ii. — argues  that  benevolence  is  not  the 
whole  of  ethical  virtue.1  The  Sermons  oppose  egoism  ; 
the  Analogy  attacks  a  sickly  sentimental  benevolence,  and 
tells  us  that  we  must  be  just  before  we  can  be  generous. 
Can  we  dispute  this  ?  Whichever  virtue  stands  highest, 
are  not  veracity  and  justice  more  imperious  in  their  claim 
than  benevolence  ?  So  too  they  are  nearer  akin  to 
conscience,  though  for  Butler  conscience  is  a  judge  and 
scarcely  at  all  a  motive.  His  teleology  insists  that  this 
judge  within  our  breast  must  have  been  framed  dis¬ 
tinctively  for  exercising  the  function  of  judging ;  and  his 
mechanical  construction  of  the  parts  of  the  soul — untouched 
by  any  breath  of  evolutionism,  whether  empiricist  or  idealist 
— does  not  allow  him  to  question  the  conception  of  con¬ 
science  as  an  upper  house  that  looks  down,  unmoved  by 
desire,  upon  the  strife  of  motives  in  a  lower  house.  Yet  we 
must  not  exaggerate  Butler’s  severance  of  conscience  from 
the  virtuous  promptings.  There  are  ‘  moral  faculties  of 
action  ’  as  well  as  of  knowledge  (conscience,  in  the  stricter 
sense).2  And  conscience,  if  obeyed,  strengthens  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  a  good  motive.3  Further :  does  not  Butler’s 
analysis  give  valuable  support  to  evangelicalism  ?  Does 
not  Christianity  teach  that  we  all  know  better  than  we  act  ? 
Is  not  that  the  very  gist  of  sin  ? 


1  This  is  the  nearest  Butler  ever  gets  to  defining  the  contents  of  virtue. 
But  is  his  praise  of  self-love  so  very  far  removed  from  the  idealist  definition 
of  morality  as  self-realisation  1 

2  Dissertation,  sub  init. 

3  Sermon  i.  ;  it  ‘tends  to  restrain  men  from  doing  mischief  .  .  .  and  leads 
them  to  do  good.’ 


X.] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


115 


When  Butler  faces  the  doubt  whether  conscience  is 
uniform  in  its  responses,  he  gives  ‘  a  very  characteristic 
answer’  1  in  Sermon  in. — ‘Almost  any  fair  man  in 
almost  any  circumstance  ’  would  judge  rightly.  He  never 
waives  the  assertion  of  a  moral  nature,  but  only  the 
a  priori  way  of  vindicating  morality.  Leslie  Stephen  may 
be  excused  for  misinterpreting  Butler’s  very  curious  con¬ 
ception  of  what  constitutes  an  empirical  fact ;  but  there 
is  no  ground  for  the  charge  that  Butler1  2  breaks  his 
word  and  argues  unfairly.  He  does,  indeed,  exaggerate 
the  uniformity  of  moral  judgments.  The  wonder  truly 
is  this,  not  that  conscience  speaks  infallibly,  but  that 
it  speaks  at  all.  When  Dr.  Tennant  tells  us  that  ‘  with 
all  deference  to  etymology,  “human  education”  would 
seem  to  consist  less  in  drawing  out  than  in  putting  in,’  3 
one  fears  that  he  threatens  destruction  to  Christianity. 
Unless  there  is  a  living  response  to  external  revelations 
and  authorities,  it  is  useless  to  talk  of  duty  or  sin  or 
redemption.  To  neglect  man’s  peculiar  happiness,  of 
growing  up  into  the  light ;  to  ignore  the  basal  unity  and 
increasing  convergence  of  moral  judgments ;  is  to  quarrel 
with  facts  more  fatally  than  Butler  has  done.  Were  there 
no  objective  principles  of  conduct,  we  must  forfeit  all  that 
makes  us  human.  The  very  pleasure  of  gossiping  in  terms 
of  praise  and  blame  would  be  lost.  And  we  must  lose 
the  soul  of  history  ;  the  joys  of  comradeship,  friendship, 
love  ;  the  communion  of  the  saints  ;  the  peace  of  God. 

The  Analogy  defends  Christian  belief,  or  in  Part  i. 
the  wider  if  vaguer  belief  in  future  judgment.  Its 
arguments  are  put  forward  as  accessory  to  other  lines  of 
proof.4  Apparently  Butler  once  more  gave  himself  the 

1  So  Dr.  Kilpatrick  in  his  very  stimulating  and  suggestive  edition  of  the 

Three  Sermons. 

2  English  Thought  in  Eighteenth  Century ,  i,  p.  304. 

3  Origin  and  Propagation  of  Sin,  p.  103. 

4  Part  n.  does  include  a  chapter  on  the  direct  argument  for  Christianity, 
miracles,  etc. 


116 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


choice,  Metaphysics  or  facts  ?  and  once  more  chose  the 
latter.  In  some  obscure  sense  he  thinks  he  has  put  forward 
a  proof,1  though  not  the  (metaphysical)  proof.  Algebraically 
his  argument  might  be  stated  thus :  God  plus  a  moral 
nature  plus  immortality = [natural]  religion.  God  he 
assumes  (as  proved  especially  by  design).  A  moral  nature 
is  also  assumed  as  plain  matter  of  fact  (Diss.  ii). 
Immortality  he  supports  by  some  inferior  nature  analogies 
(chap,  i)  ;  but  here  again,  if  need  be,  he  will  fall  back  on 
Samuel  Clarke  (Diss.  i).  In  Part  i  he  argues  that  alleged 
judgment  by  God  hereafter  resembles  plain  facts  of  moral 
reward  and  penalty  here  and  now .  Punishment  is  specially 
emphasised.  Unhappily,  his  love  for  underplaying  led 
Butler  to  omit  yet  another  assertion  which  he  himself 
believed — freewill.  He  recognised  it  as  a  plain  fact ; 
apparently  he  had  not  defined  it  to  himself  as  an  ethical 
postulate.  In  his  desire  to  meet  determinists  on  their 
own  ground,  he  argues,  Why  not  ?  We  are  treated  on 
earth  as  if  we  were  free ;  may  not  religion  be  right 
in  telling  us  similar  things  about  the  hereafter  ?  A 
moralist,  believing  in  freedom,  but  arguing  on  the  assump¬ 
tion  that  it  mav  be  a  mistake,  ties  his  own  hands.  Yet 
in  much  of  Part  i  we  feel  the  throb  of  Butler’s  heart 
and  conscience ;  and  a  profound  moral  appeal  forces  its 
way  through  less  happy  formulated  arguments.  Don’t 
you  know  what  moral  suffering  means  ?  he  cries.  Don’t 
you  feel  your  dreadful  sufferings  to  be  just  ?  Except 
in  isolated  sentences  or  paragraphs,  none  of  his  sermons 
is  so  deeply  impressive. 

To  Analogy  Part  i  we  must  also  turn  for  Butler’s  best 
contribution  to  the  doctrine  of  sin.  He  fears  and  hates 
sin.  He  knows  it  to  be  terrible  in  its  potentialities ;  and 
as  we  read  we  share  his  solemn  insight.  There  is  no  want 
of  touch  with  moral  reality  in  teachings  like  these.  Part  n 
of  the  Analogy  reveals  Butler  as  very  loyal  to  traditional 

1  See  second  last  paragraph  of  Part  II.  chap.  viii. 


X.] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


117 


theology,  yet  with  some  weakening.  The  forgiveness 
which  our  state  of  ‘  degradation  5  needs  we  find  in  Christ’s 
sacrifice — somehow  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  say  how.1  By 
sheer  force  of  will  Butler  has  remained  a  believer.  He  can 
give  no  reason  for  his  distinctively  Christian  hope,  beyond 
the  external  argument  of  miracle  and  the  poor  plea  that 
probability  or  even  possibility  must  sway  our  conduct. 
The  truer  supernatural — the  evidence  of  experience — was 
a  sealed  book  to  one  who  regarded  ‘  enthusiasm  ’  as  ‘  a 
very  horrid  thing.5  The  age  in  which  he  lived  was  all 
but  strangling  him.  Nevertheless,  if  there  has  been 
backbone  in  the  body  or  iron  in  the  blood  of  English 
theology,  we  owe  the  fact  chiefly  to  Butler. 

If  Butler  recalls  Deism  to  its  better  self,  and  builds  a  sub¬ 
structure  for  Christian  belief  and  experience,  Kant  is  a  Deist 
almost  without  disguise.  Yet  his  morality  is  very  similar 
to  Butler’s,  though  reproduced  rather  than  inherited ; 
and  his  earnestness  is  scarcely  less.  But  Kant  is  a  more 
complex  figure.  He  is  no  churchman ;  he  is  the  typical 
German  academic  thinker.  At  least  three  main  interests 
concern  him.  He  will  sweep  away  the  vapid  metaphysics 
of  Wolff,  with  their  hollow  demonstrations.  He  will 
save  science,  endangered  by  Hume’s  sceptical  dissolving 
of  causation  into  sequence.  He  will  vindicate  morality. 
Thus  he  is  largely  preoccupied  with  the  problem  of  know¬ 
ledge.  He  set  out  to  prepare  a  complete  list  of  necessary 
truths ;  he  ended  by  declaring  that  little  or  no  specula¬ 
tive  truth  was  within  man’s  reach. 

Speaking  with  unfortunate  but  necessary  brevity,  one 
might  sum  him  up  as  follows  :  God,  the  world,  the  soul, 
so  artificially  balanced  against  each  other  by  Wolff,  dis¬ 
close  themselves  as  variant  readings  or  interpretations 
of  the  same  psychical  content.  Material  nature  is  a 

1  The  most  startling  statement  of  this  position  is  found  in  the  Conclusion 
to  Part  II :  *  Indeed  neither  reason  nor  analogy,’  etc. 


118 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


collection  of  substances,  necessarily  united  by  causation 
in  time,  and  working  reciprocally  on  each  other  in  space. 
The  reality  behind  these  objects  we  cannot  know.  On 
the  basis  of  sensations  awakened  in  us  by  unknown  sorne- 
whats,  our  reason  creates  this  orderly  system.  The 
system  is  valid,  for  our  psychical  experiences  involve  it ; 
but  it  is  not  real.  We  all  dream  the  same  dream  of  a 
material  world.  Next,  the  soul  or  self  is  the  unity  of  the 
experient  hypostatised  into  an  object.  But  here,  again, 
we  fail  to  touch  reality.  The  supposed  object  remains 
unknowable.  Lastly,  God  is  the  ideal  of  a  completed  ex¬ 
perience.  Even  in  God  we  have  no  ground,  speculatively, 
for  recognising  anything  beyond  an  ideal.  The  best 
speculative  knowledge  we  have  is  that  of  matter  as  studied 
by  science.  And  not  even  science  is  truly  true. 

For  reasons  satisfactory  to  himself  if  questionable  to 
others,  Kant  was  able  to  assign  a  better  position  to  neces¬ 
sary  moral  beliefs.  He  is  as  little  disposed  1  as  Butler 
to  admit  that  conscience  can  hesitate  or  waver.  Like 
Butler  again — nay,  more  confidently  than  Butler — he 
believes  in  a  metaphysical  vindication  of  ethics.  Con¬ 
science  is  ‘  practical  reason.’  Its  certainty  is  full  and 
immediate.2  Next,  duty  involves  as  a  postulate  freewill. 
A  third  moral  truth — a  remoter  postulate — is  immortality. 
In  duty,  the  lower  sensuous  nature  obeys  the  higher 
rational  law.  But  never  perfectly  ;  hence,  it  must  immor¬ 
tally  approximate  to  the  unreached  ideal.  The  remotest 
certainty  of  all  is  God.  We  must  make  ourselves  good. 
When  we  have  done  that,  moral  necessity  requires  that 
there  should  be  a  God  who  will  make  us  happy. 

Going  over  our  own  list  of  moral  positions,  we  notice 
that  Kant  destroys  personality  speculatively,  but  indirectly 
brings  it  back  as  a  moral  truth  implied  in  freedom  and 


1  Dr.  Tennant  might  leave  out  the  great  name  of  Kant  when  he  is  airily 
waving  aside  primary  moral  beliefs  ( Origin  and  Propagation ,  p.  219). 

2  Compare  Critique  of  Practical  Reason ,  preface. 


X.] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


119 


immortality.  Freewill  is  even  more  awkwardly  circum¬ 
stanced.  Causal  law  is  Kant’s  sheet  anchor.  He  believes 
in  determinism  in  order  to  believe  in  knowledge  at  all ; 
and  he  speaks  about  the  causation  of  human  acts,  as  if 
science  afforded  absolute  and  not  relative  knowledge. 
If  we  had  data  enough,  we  could  predict  human  actions  as 
exactly  as  we  foretell  eclipses.  Per  contra  conduct  ‘  must  ’ 
be  free ;  and  the  antinomy  is  left  in  unrelieved  sharpness. 
Responsibility,  guilt,  punishment  are  defended  by  Kant 
as  moral  truths  (and  theoretical  mysteries). 

Kantian  ethics  offer  help  to  Christian  philosophy  and 
hamartiology  in  telling  us  that  moral  truth  stands  higher 
than  any  other  knowledge,  and  that  in  obeying  our  own 
reason  we  know  from  inside  what  goodness  means.  But 
there  are  two  drawbacks.  Knowledge  in  other  regions — 
knowledge,  as  such — seems  to  be  a  hollow  thing.  Secondly ; 
the  free  and  responsible  actions  of  man  are  also,  it  seems, 
predetermined  like  eclipses. 

In  contrast  with  Butler,  who  hardly  recognises  con¬ 
science  as  a  possible  motive,  Kant  makes  it  exclusive. 
Reverence  for  moral  law  is  to  produce  every  good  deed  ; 
untinged  by  love,  whether  to  self,  to  man,  or  to  God.  Here 
Butler  appears  almost  a  laxist — any  motive  pointing 
externally  in  the  right  direction  will  suffice,  according  to 
him 1 — while  Kant  is  the  most  intolerable  of  rigorists. 
Surely  the  truth  is  that  moral  reverence  is  indispensable, 
but  that  it  cannot  function  alone.  The  law  demands 
reverence  ;  it  is  love  that  fulfils  the  law. 

Kant’s  special  handling  of  the  guilt  of  sin  is  found  in  that 
section 2 3  on  radical  evil  which  sounded  so  unexpected  a 
note  in  the  eighteenth  century.  He  rejects  the  Church 
doctrine  of  original  sin,  because  it  mixes  up  reason  (or 
ethics)  and  nature — things  that  he  has  to  insist  on  keep- 


1  Compare  especially  a  paragraph  in  Analogy ,  Part  i.  chap.  v.  —  ‘Against 

this  whole  notion  of  moral  discipline,’  etc. 

3  At  the  opening  of  Religion  within  the  Bounds  of  Mere  Reason. 


120 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


ing  apart.  But  facts  compel  him  to  recognise  evil  that 
seems  to  antedate  personal  choice.  He  notes  three  grades 
— frailty  or  weakness,  impurity  or  mixed  motives,  per¬ 
versity  or  depravity.  The  last  alone  is  radically  evil  in 
the  full  sense.  Even  in  it  Kant  sees  no  devilish  love  of  sin 
qua  sin,  but  a  deliberate  preference  for  personal  pleasure 
as  compared  with  moral  law.  Mankind  may  obey  if 
obedience  costs  nothing ;  otherwise  we  will  not  obey. 
We  select  a  wrong  ‘  maxim.’  In  less  technical  lan¬ 
guage  ;  every  sin,  if  imputable  at  all,  is  in  a  sense 
deliberate,  and  wilfully  subordinates  duty  to  pleasure  or  to 
safety.  It  will  be  observed  that,  rigorist  as  he  is,  Kant 
has  not  included  in  his  survey  the  more  appalling  develop¬ 
ments  of  human  wickedness. 

When  we  pass  from  Kant  to  T.  H.  Green,  we  pass  from 
a  writer  rich  in  distinctions  and  contrasts  to  one  who  is 
eager  to  unify.  This  is  largely  due  to  the  influence  of 
Hegel.  Green  is  one  of  that  important  British  nineteenth- 
century  school  of  thinkers  who  found  in  Kant  the  true 
source  of  Hegel,  and  in  Hegel  the  true  interpretation  of 
Kant.  Yet,  among  all  this  group,  Green  is  the  writer  in 
whom  the  flavour  of  Kant  is  most  dominant  and  distinc¬ 
tive.  The  three  interests  noted  in  Kant  reappear,  but 
with  a  difference.  Green  is  eager  not  to  retrench  but 
to  establish  metaphysics  on  the  basis  of  the  Kantian 
study  of  knowledge.  He  is  incidentally  eager  to  vindi¬ 
cate  science.  He  is  supremely  concerned  for  morality 
and  religion. 

We  repeat  this  in  other  words,  if  we  describe  Green  as 
more  whole-heartedly  idealist  than  Butler  or  Kant.  The 
basis  of  his  Prolegomena  to  Ethics ,  on  his  own  statement, 
is  a  ‘  Metaphysic  of  Knowledge,’  the  same  Kantian  doctrine 
which  is  shunted  by  many  to-day  as  a  human  idiosyn¬ 
crasy  under  the  name  ‘  Theory  of  Knowledge.’  When 
we  turn  back  to  Green’s  earlier  Introductions  to  Hume’s 


X.] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


121 


Treatise,  we  realise  how  entirely  he  was  a  man  of  one 
message.  To  him,  Hume  was  the  writer  who  best  revealed 
the  sceptical  drift  of  naturalistic  empiricism,  half  veiled 
in  the  thinking  of  Mill  or  Siclgwick.  When  Hume  is  cross- 
examined,  he  betrays  the  naked  truth  of  the  case.  So 
empiricism  itself  must  be  abandoned.  Reality  and  the 
work  of  the  mind  are  not  opposite  things.1  Reality  con¬ 
sists  in  2  relations,  and  therefore  is  essentially  the  creation 
of  mind.  In  thus  defending  knowledge  against  Hume, 
we  are  also  rescuing  the  essence  of  morality.  An  intel¬ 
ligent  being,  who  knows  permanent  objects  revealed  in 
permanent  relations,  must  also  live  in  the  light  of  per¬ 
manent  interests  and  ideals.  Speculative  reason  becomes 
practical  reason.  These  are  not,  as  with  Kant,  two  dis¬ 
tinct  things,  only  one  of  which  is  valid.  They  are 
obverse  and  reverse  of  a  single  shield.  Green’s  earlier 
work  already  states  the  doctrine  of  the  Prolegomena, 
that  knowledge  and  goodness  in  us  are  the  communica¬ 
tion  to  man  of  the  knowledge  and  goodness  of  an  eternal 
consciousness. 

Personality  is  therefore  attributed  to  God  and  man — 
though  both  books  reveal  a  tendency  to  name  the  divine 
consciousness  ‘  it  ’  rather  than  ‘  he.’  So,  too,  man  is 
immortal ;  with  certain  hesitations.3 — After  all,  can  human 
personality  be  fully  vindicated  in  terms  of  mere  know¬ 
ledge  ?  Though  goodness  is  dear  to  Green,  he  treats  it 
as  a  mere  automatic  corollary  to  rationality.  Were  man 
nothing  more  than  the  Hegelian  spectator  in  the  stalls, 
watching  the  pageant  of  the  universe,  would  he  be  more 
than  a  casual  focus  of  permanent  ideal  truths,  or  a  tem¬ 
porary  strain  or  knot  in  the  infinite  ether  of  the  divine 
principle  ?  One  may  retort  what  Edward  Caird  said  of 

1  Does  not  the  new  psychological  doctrine  of  1  constructions  ’  revive  this 
prejudice  ? 

2  One  quotes  rather  than  endorses  this  formula. 

3  Green  significantly  approves  Kant's  rejection  of  soul-substance.  Compare 
also  the  rather  ominous  fragment,  Works ,  vol.  iii,  p.  159. 


122 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Butler 1 ;  Green  is  profoundly  moral  because  of  his  per¬ 
sonality,  not  because  of  his  philosophy.  He  has  broken 
with  scepticism  ;  and  that  is  well.  But  he  has  put  all 
his  trust  in  a  one-sided  intellectualism,  whose  more  natural 
outcome  is  the  serial  or  relative  view  of  moral  truth  found 
in  Hegel,  in  Mr.  Bradley’s  Ethical  Studies ,  and  in  the  later 
work  of  the  same  formidable  thinker.  Green  found  his  way 
to  God.  Building  on  that  Rock,  he  escaped  from  the  un¬ 
ending  flux  of  mentalities  in  which  pantheistic  philosophy 
drowns.  But  Green  scarcely  took  sufficient  pains  to 
justify  his  supreme  interest  in  righteousness  and  in  its 
divine  source. 

In  regard  to  freedom,  once  more,  Green  unifies — por¬ 
tentously.  There  are  not  two  worlds,  but  one ;  therefore 
freewill  in  a  libertarian  sense  is  a  dream.  And  it  would 
be  an  empty  privilege !  The  only  determination  we  have 
cause  to  fear  is  naturalistic  determination,  like  that  of 
things.  Our  freedom  is  assured  as  persons,  because — in 
comparison  with  everything  else  on  earth — rational  beings 
are  identical  in  a  unique  sense  with  the  divine  principle. 
Kant’s  doctrine  of  mortal  ‘  autonomy  ’  is  preserved — 
man  obeys  himself  and  only  so  is  moral.  (He  obeys  the 
law  within  ;  he  knows  that  right  is  right.)  Power  of 
contrary  choice,  which  at  least  in  a  sense  Kant  vindicated, 
is  swept  away. 

To  responsibility,  whether  logically  or  illogically,  Green 
is  perfectly  loyal.  The  love  of  goodness  is  enthroned  in 
his  heart.  He  may  startle  us  when  he  tells  us  that  the 
Greek  analysis  of  the  virtues  amounts  to  the  recognition 
that  goodness  is  an  inward  thing.  But  certainly  Green’s 
own  goodness  is  inward.  Institutions  do  not  exhaust  it. 
More  rigorist  at  this  point  even  than  Kant,  he  asks  us  to 
regard  increasing  virtuousness  as  the  only  reward  of  virtue. 

Green  does  not  shrink  from  the  negative  values  of  his 

1  MS.  notes  of  Glasgow  Class  Lectures,  penes  me ;  they  treat  Butler  as  a 
pure  ‘  Lockian.  ’ 


X-] 


THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  CONTRIBUTION 


123 


ethics.  Twice  over,  at  least,  he  speaks  of  sin. 
‘  Consciousness  of  Sin 5  is  written  in  inverted  commas  in 
his  own  analysis  of  his  introduction  to  the  ethical  part 
of  Hume’s  Treatise ;  and  in  one  of  his  Lay  Sermons 
he  writes :  ‘  This  is  the  foppery  of  men  who  want  new 
excuses  for  old  sins.  It  is  still  our  sin  and  nothing  else 
that  separates  us  from  God.’  1 

If  we  are  right  in  our  criticisms,  it  seems  doubtful 
whether  any  of  the  great  masters  of  ethics  whose  work 
we  most  prize  has  stated  the  case  perfectly.  Butler  in¬ 
clines  perilously  to  empiricist  and  phenomenalist  methods. 
Kant  is  half-sceptical.  Green  repels  scepticism  at  the 
risk  of  making  moral  thought  a  mere  transient  stage 
in  the  procession  of  intellectual  beliefs.  Nevertheless, 
in  the  agreements  of  these  three  great  writers,  we  recog¬ 
nise  fundamental  truths  regarding  responsibility  and 
guilt  which  the  conscience  of  mankind  endorses — truths 
which  are  reaffirmed  and  reinterpreted  in  the  Christian 
doctrine  of  sin  and  in  the  gospel  of  redemption. 


l  Works,  vol.  ii,  p.  248. 


124 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  EFFORTS  AT  THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENT 

It  would  help  us  little  to  register  the  merely  negative 
and  critical  movements  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Serious 
effort  to  re-think  the  problems  of  thought  is  later  in  the 
field  of  theology  proper  than  in  that  of  philosophy. 
Catholic  theology  cannot  do  this  work,  or  can  do  it  only 
by  means  of  elaborate  evasions.  Protestantism  is  pledged 
to  the  task.  The  great  pioneer  is  Schleiermacher. 

One  of  his  fundamental  characteristics  is  that  he  seeks 
to  interpret  the  pious  or  the  Christian  consciousness.  A 
difficulty  at  once  arises.  What  is  the  relation  between 
these  two  expressions  ?  Schleiermacher  never  quite 
solves  that  riddle.  Too  often  this  champion  of  history 
against  abstractions,  this  contemner  of  so-called  ‘  natural  ’ 
religion  as  a  piece  of  utter  artificiality,  sacrifices  the 
peculiarities  of  Christianity  to  general  theories  of  the 
nature  of  religion.  Still  the  merit  remains,  that  he  sum¬ 
moned  Christian  thought  to  concentrate  upon  the  central 
things  of  the  religious  life,  and  that  he  set  up  the  ideal 
of  an  autonomous  theology,  sovereign  in  its  own  depart¬ 
ment  of  knowledge. 

Schleiermacher’s  own  philosophy  insists  upon  God’s 
exclusive  causality  ;  not  confining  it  to  the  region  of  grace, 
where  the  pious  mind  may  have  special  reason  for  holding 
that  God  works  all  in  ail,  but  seeing  it  everywhere.  One 
may  repel  Martineau’s  view,  that  Calvinism  is  no  better 
than  a  veiled  Pantheism  ;  but  in  Schleiermacher,  that  child 


XI.] 


THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENTS 


125 


of  the  Reformed  branch  of  Protestantism,  that  enthusiast 
for  Spinoza,  we  see  a  pantheising  tendency  fully  victorious. 
One  of  the  motives  of  historic  Augustinianism  survives 
the  others.  We  get  something  like  a  supralapsarianism 
unburdened  with  moral  ideas  about  sin  and  responsi¬ 
bility.  Can  it  be  Christian  to  allow  so  much  influence 
to  a  questionable  speculative  conception  of  grace  ? 

Schleiermacher’s  Dogmatic  represents  Christianity  in¬ 
differently  as  the  completion  of  human  nature,  and  as  its 
redemption  out  of  sin.  There  is  Biblical  support  for  the 
twofold  treatment ;  and  the  modern  mind  will  welcome 
it,  if  the  programme  is  honestly  worked  out  in  each 
direction. 

Sin  proper  is  characteristically  interpreted — amid  hints 
or  germs  of  several  theories — in  terms  of  feeling.  When 
the  God-consciousness  affects  us  to  pain,  there  is  sense  of 
sin.  Guilt  exists  for  us  rather  than  for  God,  though  He 
appoints  that  we  shall  have  such  a  consciousness.  True, 
Schleiermacher  follows  the  orthodox  tradition  which 
defines  all  suffering  as  penal — ‘  the  social  immediately, 
the  natural  mediately.’  But  this  again  is  the  merely 
though  necessarily  human  outlook.  Will  the  sense  of 
guilt  survive  this  exposition  ?  Especially  as  it  is  added 
that  God  is  the  author  of  sin,  though  not  (we  are  told)  in 
the  same  full  sense  in  which  He  is  the  author  of  redemp¬ 
tion,  and  reveals  His  presence  to  the  heart  in  pleasure. 

Another  tribute  to  orthodoxy  appears,  and  another 
twofold  view  of  doctrine,  in  Schleiermacher’s  attitude 
towards  original  sin.  Such  sin  is  the  collective  guilt  of 
the  race — a  position  which  would  lend  itself  well  to  a  free¬ 
will  philosophy.  But  Schleiermacher  is  a  determinist. 
If  sin  comes  from  within,  he  finds  that  it  also  comes  from 
without,  and  that  this  original  sin  constitutes  our  absolute 
need  of  redemption.  Here  the  two  sides  of  the  doctrine 
seem  to  be  hopelessly  irreconcilable. 

One  novel  suggestion  is  the  definition  of  Christ  as  the 


126 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


man  in  whom  God-consciousness  was  absolute — the  sin¬ 
less  one  who  redeems  us  by  making  us  share  His  sinless 
perfection.  Forgiveness  itself,  like  every  remaining 
blessing,  is  secondary ;  it  depends  on  the  experiences  of 
communion  with  the  Holy  One. 

Lastly,  it  is  natural  that  Schleiermacher  should  incline 
to  assert  the  restoration  of  all  souls.  Speculative  motives 
are  supreme  if  ethical  considerations  co-operate.  In  the 
light  of  so  great  a  hope,  it  seems  less  terrible  that  mean¬ 
time  God  should  ordain  that  men  shall  sin  and  yet 
should  treat  them  as  guilty.  But  is  such  a  train  of  thought 
Christian  ? 

Influenced  by  Schleiermacher  and  Kant,  though  criti¬ 
cising  both  freely,  wrote  Julius  Muller.  He  belongs  to 
the  group  rather  disparagingly  termed  ‘  mediating  * 
theologians.  But  who  that  is  not  blind  to  modern  problems, 
yet  declines  to  break  with  the  faith  of  Christ,  merits  any 
other  description  ?  His  leading  positions  are  as  follows. 

First  of  all,  Muller  will  be  loyal  to  the  consciousness  of 
responsibility.  Any  philosophy  which  falsifies  the  findings 
of  conscience  he  sweeps  aside.  In  his  hands,  as  so  often, 
this  attitude  takes  the  form  of  an  intuitionalist  philosophy. 
One  respects  the  position,  even  while  questioning  whether 
it  is  philosophically  secure.  In  contrast  with  Kant’s 
leaven  of  scepticism  Muller  might  be  called  a  ‘  dogmatist.’ 
He  believes  in  a  divine  knowledge  superior  to  time,  yet 
he  holds  that  time,  space,  matter  are  the  forms  of  this 
•^finite  world,  and  that  God  knows  the  things  of  time  as 
past,  present,  or  future — in  nowise  ‘  transformed  ’  for  His 
consciousness.  Secondly,  Muller  desires  to  be  loyal  to 
man’s  absolute  need  of  redemption  as  a  fallen  being.1 
Human  freedom  indeed  is  not  lost,  however  flawed.2 
Assertions  of  total  depravity  must  be  carefully  made,  or 

1  ii.  pp.  75,  239  ( Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin ,  tr.  Urwick). 

8  Ibid.,  p.  237. 


XI.] 


THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENTS 


127 


redemption  becomes  unthinkable.  But  Kant’s  postulate 
of  a  sinner’s  capacity  for  self-reformation  is,  from  every 
point  of  view,  dismissed.  Freewill  does  not  extend  so  far  as 
that.  Thirdly,  Muller  will  have  no  parleyings  with  the 
‘  Medusa’s  head  ’  of  absolute  predestination.1  He  bases 
his  rejection  upon  moral  grounds — surely  with  convincing 
force.  Or,  if  predestination  to  eternal  life  or  eternal  doom 
is  to  be  credited,  it  must  be  held  as  a  mystery,  in  spite 
of  moral  difficulties. 

These  three  points  taken  together  exhibit  Muller  as  a 
loyal  Lutheran — dismissing  the  predestinarian  motive  of 
Augustinianism,  laying  all  the  greater  stress  on  the  evan¬ 
gelical  assertion  of  sinful  man’s  helplessness. 

The  attitude  taken  up  towards  Scripture  is  curious. 
Muller  bases  each  doctrinal  position  upon  an  appeal  to 
the  Christian  soul ;  then  he  leads  proof  that  the  Bible 
says  the  same  thing.  Is  such  an  atomistic  appeal  to  the 
Bible  historically  satisfactory  ?  Is  it  even  truly  reverent  ? 

A  great  deal  of  orthodoxy  remains.  Law  is  universal 
in  God’s  relation  to  man  ;  it  persists  under  Christianity. 
Literal  death  is  the  wages  of  sin.  Christ  redeems  through 
bearing  punishment  as  a  substitute.2  The  essence  of 
forgiveness  is  release  from  penalty.3  Concurrently,  Muller 
maintains  that  sin  is  selfishness.  Such  a  doctrine  is  often 
understood  as  a  refusal  to  regard  sin  as  guilt  before  God. 
Muller  does  not  mean  it  so.  Sin  for  him  is  emphatically 
sin  against  God  ;  and  yet,  while  not  every  sin  is  an  act 
of  selfishness — e.g.  dishonesty  for  another’s  benefit — life  as 
a  whole  leads  up  to  the  one  great  choice  between  obedience 
and  self-will. 

Much  space  is  given  to  what  is  regarded  as  a  correct 
account  of  providence.  Muller  fears  that  an  excessive 
doctrine  of  divine  causality  (like  Schleiermacher’s)  will 

1  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin  ( tr.  Urwick),  vol.  ii.  p.  239.  The  same  image 
is  used  of  Spinoza’s  paralysing  logic,  i.  p.  153,  note. 

2  Ibid.,  i.  p.  255.  3  Ibid.,  i.  p.  246. 


128 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


destroy  morality  and  freewill.  God  does  not  always  act. 
He  limits  Himself  in  granting  freedom.  He  permits  but 
does  not  in  any  sense  cause  sin.  He  foreknows  it — by 
intuition,  not  calculation — without  predestinating  it.  There 
is  room  for  man’s  proper  activity,  and  for  the  doleful  con¬ 
sequences  of  human  sin. 

The  great  novelty  is  the  doctrine  of  non-temporal  self- 
determination  to  evil.  Here  Muller  is  Kant’s  pupil.  He 
thinks  he  avoids,  but  practically  repeats,  Origen’s  doctrine 
of  a  prenatal  fall.  Christ’s  human  soul  (we  again  hear) 
was  tried  and  stood.1  Others  also  may  well  have  stood, 
though  it  seems  that  Scripture  forbids  our  confusing  these 
with  the  holy  angels.2  Nor  are  devils  of  human  kindred. 
It  is  a  clever  touch  to  provide  that  not  all  human  souls, 
nor  even  all  with  one  great  exception,  fell  during  the  trial. 
Muller  finds  that  we  cannot  safeguard  freedom  and 
responsibility  except  by  this  theory  of  non- temporal  sin. 
Conscience  blames  us  for  every  fault.  We  are  biassed  ;  yet 
we  are  guilty,  and  know  it.  How  can  we  be,  unless  somehow 
we  gave  ourselves  the  bias  ?  Every  other  road  is  stopped  ! 
Ordinary  doctrines  of  imputation  or  hereditary  corrup¬ 
tion  are  immoral.  Orthodoxy  must  not  claim  Muller’s 
support  unless  it  agrees  with  him  here.  The  reasoning 
deserves  attention  ;  the  authority  of  the  man  is  high. 
Yet,  can  the  coherence  of  the  gospel  depend  on  such  an 
inference,  of  which  Origen  barely  had  a  glimpse,  which 
Kant  revived,  which  Muller,  vigorously  rectifying  Kant, 
first  stated  in  its  truth  ?  Muller  further  holds  that  the 
Fall  was  confirmed  or  deepened  by  the  transgression  of 
the  first  man.  Mainly,  this  is  a  tribute  to  biblicism. 
Partly  also  Muller’s  belief  in  surviving  freewill  raises  the 
question :  How  if  Adam  had  behaved  better  ?  For  he 
believes  in  the  historical  Adam.  But  this  pleonastic  fall- 
doctrine  will  scarcely  win  acceptance  upon  its  merits. 

It  is  natural  enough  that  Muller  should  hold  to  the  possi- 
1  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin,  ii.  p.  368.  2  Ibid. ,  pp.  367,  368. 


XI.] 


THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENTS 


129 


bility  of  the  soul’s  eternal  loss.  Reason  for  believing  in 
the  actual  loss  of  some  souls,  fewer  or  more,  is  said  to  be 
furnished  by  Christ’s  teaching  regarding  a  sin  against  the 
Holy  Spirit. 

Much  the  greatest  contribution  to  British  theology  in 
the  nineteenth  century  is  John  M‘Leod  Campbell’s  Nature 
of  the  Atonement.  While  no  philosopher,  Campbell  appeals 
at  every  turn  to  the  8  conscience,’  1  and  thus  strikes  the 
right  keynote.  His  technical  equipment  as  a  theologian 
was  not  comparable  to  Schleiermacher’s  or  Muller’s  or 
Ritschl’s.  And  the  Bible  remains  to  him  in  almost  every 
respect  the  preternatural  book  of  orthodoxy.  But  he  dug 
deep,  and  brought  treasures  to  light.  He  is  an  ethical  critic 
of  doctrine.  Before  intellectual  criticism  began  in  our 
country,  Campbell  and  his  like-minded  but  so  different 
confrere,  Erskine,2  had  exercised  a  moral  criticism.  This  is 
the  highest  and  most  Christian  type  of  theological  progress. 
To  be  intellectually  up  to  date  is  desirable.  To  be  true 
to  conscience  is  indispensable. 

As  a  Christian  teacher,  Campbell  was  forced  to  break 
with  Calvinism.  He  preached  the  Gospel  at  Row,  as  one 
of  themselves  said,  to  8  a  sleeping  people,’  urging  the  need 
to  believe  God’s  word.  What  are  we  to  believe  ?  they 
would  rejoin.  How  can  we  trust  the  offers  of  a  Saviour 
who  purposes  to  show  favour  to  an  arbitrarily  chosen 
some  and  merciless  8  justice  ’  to  the  rest  ?  Not  so, 
said  Campbell ;  He  died  for  all,  as  the  Bible  says  ;  He 
loves  all !  So  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland  deposed  him,  and  he  was  compelled  by  religious 
duty  to  become  a  theological  reformer.  Involuntarily, 
as  he  tells  us,  his  thoughts  travelled  on  from  the  extent 
to  the  nature  of  the  Atonement.  He  taught  a  little  flock 
that  gathered  round  him — he  never  would  found  8  a  sect  ’ — 

1  E.g.  p.  xxii.  (5th  ed.,  1878). 

8  Of  Linlathen.  A.  J.  Scott  was  a  third  in  the  partnership. 

I 


130 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


and  he  read  and  prayed  and  brooded.  Then  he  spoke  in 
words  which,  though  touchingly  formless  as  literature, 
would  live  as  a  devotional  classic  if  they  had  no  value  as 
theology.  But  their  value  even  in  that  respect  is  little 
short  of  the  highest. 

The  primary  element  in  his  theology  is  the  thought  of 
God  as  Father.1  If  Dr.  R.  S.  Candlish,  strong  in  the  tradi¬ 
tional  appeal  to  law,  dismissed  ‘  vague  qualities  of  father¬ 
liness  ’  as  irrelevant  to  serious  thought,  Campbell  must 
have  felt  that  his  critic  might  as  well  have  spoken  of  a 
vague  quality  of  deity. 

Only  second  to  this  is  his  belief  in  the  Lord  Jesus.2  He 
raises  the  question  whether3  the  Atonement  or  the  Incar¬ 
nation — both  being  assumed  to  be  true  and  vital — is 
primary,  and  unhesitatingly  pronounces  for  the  latter. 
At  the  same  time  he  guards  himself  against  proposals  to 
omit  the  remedial  aspect  of  the  Gospel.4  He  elsewhere  6 
expresses  regret  that  theologians  have  not  sufficiently 
taken  ‘  the  life  of  Christ  as  their  light,’  referring  to  John 
i.  4  in  a  sense  of  his  own.  If  one  may  venture  upon  a 
criticism,  Campbell  too  much  assumes  the  incarnation  of 
the  Son  of  God  as  a  datum,  and  says  what  such  a  fact  once 
given  must  imply  ;  we  ought  rather  to  infer  what  Christ 
is  from  our  own  and  the  Church’s  experience  of  what  He 
does.  Christology  must  affirm  what  is  implied  concern¬ 
ing  Christ’s  person  in  His  work,  or  else  be  silent.  Whether 
this  criticism  be  right  or  wrong,  Campbell’s  procedure  is 
characteristic  and  determinant  of  his  thinking. 

Much  of  orthodoxy  remains.  Campbell  accepts  the 
theology  of  moral  law  and  the  Pauline  hamartiology.6 
Romans  vii.  is  normative.7  Death  is  the  wages  of  sin  ;  and 

1  Title  of  Chapter  xv.  2  See  e.g.  pp.  123,  324.  3  P.  xvi. 

4  E.g.  p.  xxi.  5  P.  45. 

6  Yet  with  an  emphasis  upon  ignorance  which  anticipates  Ritschl.  I 
made  remarks  on  further  coincidences  in  preface  to  Essays  Towards  a  New 
Theology,  1889. 

7  P.  11. 


XI.] 


THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENTS 


131 


therefore  in  experiencing  death  Christ  furnished  4  an  adequate 
ground  ’  for  redemption  from  law.1  On  the  other  hand, 
Campbell  brushes  aside  original  sin  2  because  4  usually  pre¬ 
sent  to  the  mind  as  a  dogma  and  not  as  a  consciousness.’ 
This  incidental  verdict,  gentle  and  fatal  like  a  tap  from  a 
lion’s  paw,  suggests  a  whole  apparatus  of  criticism  and 
construction. 

Campbell’s  central  thesis  is  that  the  atoning  death  of 
Christ  must  be  regarded  not  as  a  punishment  but  yet  as 
an  expiation.  Following  a  hint  in  Jonathan  Edwards, 
which  for  Edwards  himself  was  an  empty  logical  possi¬ 
bility,  he  argues  that  atonement  was  made  through  Christ’s 
confessing  our  sins.  This  repentance  or  quasi  repentance 
on  behalf  of  the  race  into  which  Christ  had  entered  was 
glorifying  to  righteousness  and  to  God.  As  Christian  and 
as  biblicist,  Campbell  definitely  maintains  a  4  retrospec¬ 
tive  ’  as  well  as  a  4  prospective  ’  reference  in  Christ’s  work. 
At  times  he  almost  echoes  older  views.3  Christ  receives 
into  His  bosom  and  4  absorbs  ’  the  righteous  wrath  of  God 
against  sin.4  Again 5  Campbell  himself  admits  that 
4  the  sinless  dying  for  sin  is  that  in  the  history  of  Christ’s 
sufferings,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  which  most  approaches 
the  conception  of  the  innocent  being  punished  for  the 
guilty.’  If  one  may  venture  a  second  criticism,  Campbell 
is  right  in  his  plea  for  the  4  retrospective,’  but  he  has  not 
harmonised  his  sayings  regarding  it  with  his  other  posi¬ 
tions.  Those  who  disliked  this  strain  in  him  were  so  far 
in  the  right ;  there  is  something  incongruous  in  his  utter¬ 
ances.  He  has  not  fully  solved  his  vast  problem.  But 
what  man  or  what  angel  can  do  more  than  seek  to  4  look 
into  ’  these  sacred  depths  ?  The  immense  advance,  from 
the  legal  to  the  ethical,  stands.  Legally,  it  is  wrong  to 

1  Nature  of  Atonement,  p.  110.  2  P.  340. 

3  It  is  worth  notice  that  that  eminent  controversialist,  the  late  Dr.  Rigg  of 
the  Wesleyan  Methodist  Church,  accepted  Campbell  as  satisfying  the  rather 
exacting  standard  of  his  orthodoxy  ( Modern  Anglican  Theology ,  preface). 

4  P.  117.  5  Note  to  Chapter  xm. 


132 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[ch. 


punish  twice  for  the  same  crime.  So  argued  orthodoxy. 
Morally,  it  is  right  to  forgive,  wrong  not  to  forgive,  when 
there  is  repentance.  Which  explanation  is  more  Christian  ? 

When  we  turn  to  Albrecht  Ritschl  we  encounter  a 
great  biblical  scholar  and  theologian.  His  leading  work  is 
again  a  monograph — Biblical,  Historical,  and  Constructive 
— upon  Atonement.  Yet  of  necessity  it  deals  pretty  fully 
with  sin  ;  indeed,  as  he  says  himself,  it  contains  almost 
the  whole  of  a  dogmatic  system.  With  Ritschl  must  be 
associated  Hermann  Schultz,  in  virtue  of  a  book  explain¬ 
ing  the  Godhead  of  Christ  in  the  light  of  a  new  reading 
of  the  communicatio  iddomatum.  The  third  member  of 
this  partnership,  Professor  W.  Herrmann  of  Marburg, 
happily  still  survives.  He,  too,  is  a  colleague  and  fellow- 
worker,  not  a  disciple.  In  Ritschl  we  often  feel  with  pain 
that  we  are  dealing  with  a  technical  expert,  almost  with 
a  schoolman.  He  is  a  sneering  controversialist.  He  dis¬ 
claimed  1  the  idea  that  theological  study  could  be  expected 
to  edify.  All  this  is  a  chilling  change  from  M‘Leod 
Campbell ;  but,  when  we  pass  to  Herrmann’s  writings, 
or  better  still  enter  his  class-room,  we  find  ourselves  in  a 
pure  and  intense  devotional  atmosphere.  Elusive  as  the 
thought  often  seems,  one  recognises  that,  if  words  have 
any  meaning,  this  is  an  evangelical  Christian,  all  the  more 
interesting  if  his  thought  does  not  move  with  Paul  exclu¬ 
sively  between  the  poles  of  sin  and  grace.  If  we  con¬ 
centrate  now  upon  Ritschl,  that  is  only  because  he  is  the 
more  systematic  writer.  Even  in  him  genuine  religious 
and  moral  interest  flows  deep  and  strong.  No  one  has 
offered  more  suggestions  to  modern  theology.  Naturally 
they  are  not  all  of  equal  value. 

Space  will  not  permit  us  to  do  more  than  name  in  a  single 
word  the  general  basis  of  his  theology.  First,  he  teaches  2 

1  As  reported  to  me  by  a  friend  who  attended  his  lectures. 

8  In  ed.  3,  not  in  ed.  1. 


XI.] 


THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENTS 


133 


with  Kant  a  practical  but  not  a  speculative  knowledge 
of  God.  Secondly,  he  finds  this  knowledge  given  by 
revelation  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  seeks  to  define  Christianity 
by  contrast  with  all  other  religions  as  uniquely  endowed 
with  belief  in  God’s  perfect  providence.  Thirdly,  he 
revives  against  Schleiermacher  the  vital  union  between 
the  New  Testament  and  the  Old.  The  apostles  could  give 
an  abiding  interpretation  to  Christianity  1  because  they 
knew  from  inside  the  religious  ideas  of  the  Old  Testament. 
Fourthly,  the  essential  supremacy  of  Christ  is  due  to  his 
place  not  simply  as  a  man  absolutely  conscious  of  God  but 
as  founder  of  a  fellowship — the  Christian  church 2 — in  which 
and  in  which  alone  men  may  know  God.  Fifthly,  what 
is  called  from  the  point  of  view  of  religion  or  worship  the 
church  becomes  from  the  point  of  view  of  duty  the 
Kingdom  of  God — a  human  fellowship  of  perfect  love 
finding  subordinate  manifestations  in  the  family  and  the 
state.  Ritschl  and  his  friends  are  resolute  against  revival 
methods.  The  individual  is  simply  the  child  of  the  reli¬ 
gious  and  moral  community.  Within  that  realm  created 
by  Christ  spiritual  victory  is  possible.  Nothing  more 
can  be  said  as  to  the  beginnings  of  Christian  life. 

The  progress  of  biblical  criticism  has  created  embar¬ 
rassment  for  some  of  Ritschl’ s  findings  ;  but,  instead 
of  discussing  the  merits  of  these  wider  positions,  we  must 
turn  to  his  views  regarding  sin.  First  of  all,  it  should 
be  noticed  that  Ritschl’s  doctrine  of  providence  places 
the  problem  of  sin  in  a  secondary  position.  The  primary 
religious  blessing  is  personal  fellowship  with  the  divine 
Father  who  cares  for  us. 

1  Ritschl  has  been  criticised  for  teaching,  unhistorically,  a  'fall’  from 
New  Testament  Christianity  when  the  Gentiles  became  trustees  of  the  gospel ; 
but  one  notices  that  even  Professor  K.  Lake,  who  pushes  to  the  utmost  the 
continuity  between  St.  Paul’s  thought  and  Catholicism,  has  to  contrast  (as 
Ritschl  did  before  him)  those  who  came  over  as  converts  with  a  later 
generation  who  too  easily  inherited  a  divine  creed.  Is  not  this  a  ‘fall’? 
Is  it  not  historical  ? 

2  Community,  Gemeinde.  In  Luther’s  version  of  the  creed  the  communio 
sanctorum  appears  as  the  ‘Gemeine  der  Heiligen.’ 


134 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


In  lieu  of  original  sin  Ritschl  establishes  a  ddctrine  of 
social  heredity.  Unlike  Schleiermacher,  he  teaches  collective 
as  against  original  sin.  Unlike  Pelagius,  he  teaches  in¬ 
heritance  of  evil  not  merely  by  individual  imitation  of 
bad  examples  but  by  inbreathing  of  a  tainted  life.  Our 
finite  fleshly  nature  surrounds  us  with  temptations  while 
we  are  unformed  ;  and  social  pressure  proves  irresistible. 

Ritschl  revives  from  the  Bible  the  non-Pauline  doctrine 
of  two  kinds  or  stages  of  sin.  At  this  and  other  points 
Ritschl  has  been  raked  with  criticism  from  both  sides, 
orthodox  and  radical.  Let  us  at  least  understand  before 
we  condemn.  Apart  from  slight  waverings  towards  dis¬ 
solving  guilt  into  mere  ignorance,1  Ritschl  is  on  firm 
biblical  ground.  Yet  his  application  of  the  doctrine  is 
drastic.  He  finds  it  to  be  4  most  important  for  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  Atonement.’  Briefly,  he  erases  from  the  Gospel 
everything  remedial.  Small  sins,  of  4  ignorance,’  need 
no  expiation ;  great  sins  admit  of  none.  The  sinner 
whom  God  saves  is  recognised  as  exceptionally  worth 
recovering.  Ritschl  must  have  known  that  this  was  not 
Paul’s  teaching.  Characteristically,  he  omits  to  notice 
the  fact. 

Another  doctrine  much  emphasised  by  Ritschl  is  that 
sin  must  be  estimated  by  the  standard  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God,  not  by  a  supposed  standard  furnished  by  natural 
religion.  In  a  sense,  all  must  agree  ;  yet  one  fears  that 
Ritschl  once  again  is  evading  the  task  of  showing  man 
to  be  responsible  for  his  guilt. 

Unlike  Muller,  and  more  clearly  than  Campbell,  he 
interprets  forgiveness  in  terms  of  ethical  personality. 
To  forgive  is  to  readmit  to  personal  fellowship.  External 
penalties  may  be  withdrawn — that  is  not  essential  for¬ 
giveness  if  the  other  is  lacking.  External  penalties  may 
remain — they  do  not  touch  essential  forgiveness  if  the  other 
is  there.  Probabfy  this  teaching  could  be  paralleled  else- 
1  Justification,  yoI.  iii.,  English  tr.,  pp.  377,  378. 


XI.] 


THEOLOGICAL  RESTATEMENTS 


135 


where.  We  who  have  learned  it  from  Ritschl  can  never 
forget  our  debt  of  gratitude  through  him  to  God. 

Less  satisfactory  yet  most  interesting  is  Ritschl’s 
abolition  of  the  very  thought  of  justice  from  God’s  deal¬ 
ings  with  His  children.  Righteousness  in  God  is  not  a 
twofold  thing  of  rewards  and  punishments  but  the  steady 
following  out  of  a  great  purpose.  God  forgives  not  through 
expiation  but  because  it  is  worth  while  to  rescue  a  re¬ 
pentant  sinner.  The  forgiven  child  ceases  to  ask  for  a 
high  place  in  God’s  kingdom.  There  is  no  high  nor  low 
there — all  is  wonderful  and  all  divine.  One  loving  cup 
passes  into  every  hand.  Woe  to  those  who  forfeit  it ! 
All  this  is  finely  felt ;  yet  surely  the  certainty  stands : 
‘  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap.’  When 
Ritschl  brushes  aside  Romans  ii.  13,  etc.,  as  mere  accom¬ 
modation  to  Pharisaism,  he  sophisticates.  Reconcile  it 
with  Gospel  mercy  as  we  may,  intellectually  perhaps  not 
at  all,  we  must  teach  that  the  Father  judges  according 
to  every  man’s  work. 

Lastly,  Ritschl  inclines  to  conditional  immortality  and 
the  annihilation  of  the  impenitent.  He  perhaps  even 
exaggerates  the  eschatological  connotation  of  divine 
‘  wrath  ’  in  the  New  Testament.  But  he  insists  that  the  Old 
Testament  substructure  is  destroyed.  It  is  no  longer  pos¬ 
sible  to  treat  calamity  as  a  proof  of  God’s  anger.  And  he 
finds  the  eschatological  vision  encompassed  with  mystery. 
So  he  declines  dogmatising. 

When  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  Ritschl’s  disciples, 
Professor  Harnack,  has  to  speak  of  Augustine,  he  betrays 
a  much  greater  sympathy  for  the  Pauline  hamartiology. 
He  pointedly  rejects  a  view  which  Ritschl  more  than  once 
affirms,  that  Augustine’s  chief  motive  for  teaching  original 
sin  was  a  desire  to  vindicate  infant  baptism.  Harnack 
finds  Augustinianism  almost  purely  Christian.  Yet,  when 
we  expect  him  to  adhere  to  Church  orthodoxy,  he  breaks 


136 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


away.  It  turns  out  that  we  cannot  ‘  write  history  5  on 
the  basis  of  such  experiences.  Elsewhere  Harnack  warns 
us  that  the  historian  is  pledged  never  to  acknowledge 
miracles  (even  if  they  happened  ?),  historical  science  assum¬ 
ing  the  regular  working  of  law.  Does  the  historian  then 
tie  his  arms  and  blind  his  eyes  before  getting  to  work  ? 
Perhaps  Harnack’s  is  just  one  fresh  way  of  recognising 
irreducible  mystery  in  this  dark  region.  Anyway  it  is 
significant  that  this  great  scholar,  more  of  a  radical  in 
theology  than  Ritschl,  eloquently  and  passionately  renews 
the  confession — with  whatever  reserves — of  helpless  human 
dependence  upon  divine  grace. 


XII.] 


EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE 


137 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  CONTRIBUTION  OF  EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE 

Modern  discussions  in  other  regions  besides  that  of 
philosophy  have  influenced  the  doctrine  of  sin.  The 
genius  of  Darwin  affected  all  speculation  when  it  secured 
belief  in  the  evolution  of  distinct  species  of  living  creatures 
from  a  common  ancestry  by  processes  of  natural  law. 
The  evolutionary  idea  itself  was  not  new ;  its  acceptance 
by  science  as  an  accredited  working  hypothesis,  and  soon 
as — to  some  extent  at  least — undoubted  fact,  changed 
the  whole  situation.  What  one  speaks  of  in  such  terms 
is  the  fact  of  relationship  between  ‘  distinct 5  species. 
From  this  must  be  carefully  distinguished  Darwin’s  subtle 
and  ingenious  theory  of  the  method  of  their  evolution — 
viz.  natural  selection.  The  two  are  often  confused. 
Even  T.  H.  Green  writes  as  if,  in  regions  where  an 
evolution  of  biological  species  has  occurred,  natural 
selection  and  nothing  else  must  have  been  at  work. 
There  are  even  persons  who  talk  glibly  about  natural 
selection  without  ever  apprehending  what  it  means.1 

The  first  effect  upon  theology  of  the  new  belief  was  to 
blot  out  innumerable  supposed  divine  interventions.  Where 
men  now  accepted  natural  evolution  they  had  previously 
asserted  special  creation.  Hybrids  being  infertile,  it 
had  been  held  that  from  their  first  existence  onwards  the 
different  species  of  living  creatures  must  have  been  isolated 

1  There  is  a  good  statement  in  Dr.  F.  J.  Hall’s  Evolution  and  the  Fall — a 
book  whose  theological  standpoint  the  present  writer  cannot  pretend  to  share. 


138 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


from  each  other,  and  that  each  must  have  owed  its  being  to 
a  distinct  historical  act  of  the  divine  will.  Such  a  belief 
began  to  look  childish.  In  a  moment  God  seemed  to 
recede  indefinitely  further  from  the  human  imagination. 
He  had  been,  so  to  speak,  barely  out  of  sight ;  and  the  works 
of  His  fingers  had  everywhere  borne  the  marks  of  their 
origin.  Now  nature  must  count  for  more  and  God  appar¬ 
ently  for  less.  Clearly  grasped  and  soberly  weighed,  the 
new  conception  might  commend  itself  as  a  more  majestic 
reading  of  the  divine  method.  But  at  the  moment  the  proof 
of  evolution  came  to  pious  minds  as  a  blow. 

It  ought  still  further  to  be  granted,  I  believe,  that  the 
central  theory  of  Darwinism,  Natural  Selection  by  struggle, 
is  also  at  least  part  of  the  facts.  There  was  need  of  a  very 
keen  and  original  mind  to  frame  the  hypothesis,  but — in 
spite  of  challenges  by  several  brilliant  critics  upon  meta¬ 
physical  and  scientific  grounds — it  seems  to  commend 
itself.  Granted  a  prolific  nature — granted  superabund¬ 
ance  of  offspring — only  a  small  percentage  can  reach 
maturity  or  reproduce  themselves ;  and  elimination 
must,  on  the  average  and  in  the  long  run,  spare  those 
organisms  which  are  best  adapted  to  their  conditions. 
The  process  must  maintain,  perhaps  even  augment,  telic 
efficiency. 

To  regard  natural  selection  as  the  sole  cause  of  evolution 
is  to  go  beyond  Darwin.  He  believed  in  sexual  selection ; 
he  even  believed  in  the  inheritance  of  acquired  qualities, 
or  ‘  the  Lamarckian  factor  ’ ;  possibly  he  did  not  fully 
realise  how  greatly  this  factor,  if  at  work  at  all,  must  sur¬ 
pass  in  strength  and  efficacy  any  slow  and  indirect  process 
of  elimination.  It  was  Weismann  who  made  natural  selec¬ 
tion  all-explanatory.  He  seems  to  have  proved  something. 
It  seems  established  that  inheritance  of  acquired  qualities, 
if  it  exists  at  all,  does  not  work  so  freely  as  had  been  sup¬ 
posed.  But  one  gathers  that  recent  opinion  tends  to 
recoil  from  the  full  vigour  and  rigour  of  Weismannism. 


XII.] 


EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE 


139 


It  might  be  possible  to  show  arithmetically  1  that  natural 
selection  must  be  supplemented  by  some  other  causal 
processes  if  we  are  to  do  justice  to  the  facts  of  evolution. 
Elimination  has  far  less  scope  with  the  highest  organisms. 
The  codfish  produces  innumerable  spawn ;  the  higher  mam¬ 
mals  have  few,  or  two,  or  one  at  a  birth.  Are  they  less 
efficient  or  less  adapted  ?  Have  we  any  reason  to  hold  that 
evolutionary  advance  slackens  as  we  rise  in  the  scale  ?  If 
not,  something  else  has  been  taking  place  beyond  elimination 
of  the  unfit  and  selection  of  the  fittest. 

Once  again,  natural  selection  has  been  regarded  as  the 
most  anti-teleological  of  all  doctrines  of  the  evolution  of 
species.  And  it  may  be  among  the  least  teleological,  among 
the  most  mechanical,  of  such  doctrines  ;  but,  confined  as 
it  is  by  Darwin  within  the  region  of  life,  I  cannot  see  that 
it  negatives  teleology.  Ancient  thinkers,  who  held  that 
universes  arose  out  of  chaos  by  a  process  of  quasi  trial- 
and-error,  may  have  been  entitled  to  claim  that  they  were 
escaping  from  the  tyranny  of  purpose  to  the  freedom  of 
chance.  But  surely  not  so  Darwin.  He  postulates  fife 
and  heredity.  Where  fife  is  successfully  preserved  and 
transmitted  to  offspring,  something  is  in  existence  which 
is  very  far  removed  from  blind  hazard.  Weismannism 
may  be  extravagant ;  but  not  even  this  extravagance 
would  explode  teleology. 

Darwin,  however,  moved  on  from  the  general  problem 
of  the  Origin  of  Species  to  the  more  special  problems  of  the 
Descent  of  Man.  The  argument  was  still  similar.  The 
reasonable  and  moral  race,  which  had  always  grouped  itself 
apart  from  the  beasts,  belonged  to  the  same  continuous  pro¬ 
cess  of  natural  development,  and  owed  its  origin  to  the  same 
factors.  Point  by  point,  Darwin  claimed  to  show  that  what 
had  been  regarded  as  distinctively  human  qualities  were  pro- 

1  Professor  Karl  Pearson  has  called  attention  to  the  need  for  testing  the 
magnitude  as  well  as  establishing  the  existence  of  this  or  that  factor  in 
evolution. 


140 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


longations  of  merely  animal  traits.  On  the  fact  that  man¬ 
kind  are  descended  from  brutes  he  certainly  won  his  case. 

Plainly,  theology  could  not  fail  to  be  affected.  First  of 
all,  the  historicity  of  the  opening  chapters  of  Genesis  re¬ 
ceived  a  final  and  fatal  blow.  Many  theologians,  age  after 
age,  had  seen  parable  rather  than  historical  fact  in  these 
narratives  ;  but  the  new  arguments  went  home  with  fresh 
power  to  the  average  mind.  Nor  did  it  mend  matters  for 
conservative  spirits  when  critical  historians  took  over  the 
documents  and  detected  in  these  early  chapters  myth — 
purified  and  elevated  by  the  prophetic  spirit,  yet  still  funda¬ 
mentally  nature-myth  rather  than  moral  allegory. 

Moreover,  if  the  fall  of  Adam  vanished  from  the  page  of 
history,  what  was  to  take  its  place  ?  We  do  not  blame 
men  for  actions  which  they  are  physically  unable  to  avoid. 
Can  we,  upon  the  new  theory,  blame  the  race  ?  Is  morality 
to  disappear  ?  If  not  in  the  case  of  a  historical  Adam  and 
Eve,  if  not  within  a  literal  Garden  of  Eden,  was  it  ever 
possible  for  mankind  as  a  race  to  refuse  the  evil  and  choose 
the  good  ?  The  inevitableness  of  sin  had  been  mooted  as  a 
speculative  hypothesis,  but  the  Christian  church  had  always 
refused  it.  Does  science  show  it  to  be  a  fact  ?  You  may 
question  the  ultimate  metaphysical  truth  of  scientific  find¬ 
ings,  but  you  can  hardly  deny  that  they  are  in  some  sense  true. 

There  are  those  who  challenge  continuity  at  the  point 
where  the  soul  must  be  supposed  to  have  appeared.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  hypothesis  of  natural  selection  dawned 
upon  two  minds  simultaneously — Darwin  and  A.  R. 
Wallace.  To  the  honour  of  both,  they  presented  their 
views  as  partners,  not  as  rivals  ;  to  the  honour  of  Wallace, 
he  never  grudged  the  more  brilliant  and  more  laborious 
Darwin  his  larger  share  of  fame.  It  interests  us  to  recall 
that  Wallace — not  a  Christian  in  creed  but  a  Spiritualist — 
argued  for  creative  interference  as  necessary  to  account 
for  the  human  soul.  There  is  therefore  high  scientific 
authority  for  maintaining  that  some  discontinuousness 


XII.]  EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE  141 

may  be  asserted  by  loyal  believers  in  evolution.  We  might 
add  that  Dr.  F.  R.  Tennant,  who  represents  within  English 
theology  an  evolutionary  doctrine  of  sin,  holds  to  a  ‘  puri¬ 
fied  creationism  ’  against  all  forms  of  traducianism.  One 
assumes  that  Dr.  Tennant  would  account  for  brute  mind 
by  traducian  process  ;  if  so,  he  also  must  postulate  a  special 
forth-putting  of  divine  power  when  rational  and  moral 
mind  first  appeared.  The  creation  of  c  Adam’s  ’  soul 
appears  thus  a  thing  as  novel,  if  not  as  isolated,  as  upon 
Dr.  Wallace’s  view.  Yet  against  both  thinkers  one  must  ex¬ 
press  a  doubt  whether  such  a  view  is  truly  germane  to  evolu¬ 
tionism.  It  asks  us  to  admit  an  exception  and  a  limit  to 
evolutionary  process.  We  must  think  twice  before  we  agree. 

When  evolutionism  deals  with  the  problem  of  sin  it  in¬ 
clines  to  exclude  any  possible  discontinuity  between  man 
and  brute.  It  stands  for  what  Mr.  John  Fiske  1  has  called 
the  ‘  Brute  Inheritance  ’ — a  view  represented  among  theo¬ 
logians  by  Pfleiderer  in  Germany  and  Dr.  Tennant  in  Eng¬ 
land.  Things  natural  and  innocent  in  the  life  of  lower 
animals  travel  on  into  the  region  of  reason  and  conscience, 
and  are  condemned.  It  would  be  strange  to  suggest  that 
the  holy  Creator  stepped  forward  to  originate  the  human 
soul,  and  ordained  that  the  newly  shaped  spirit  should  be 
served  heir  to  the  Karma  of  brute  ancestors.  Even  upon 
Dr.  Tennant’s  incidental  and  inferential  formulation,  the 
theory  looks  anomalous.  Evolutionism  tells  us  that 
morality  is  nothing  else  than  to 

‘  Move  upward,  working  out  the  beast 
And  let  the  ape  and  tiger2  die.’ 

Sin  is  treated  as  inevitable,  yet  none  the  less  evil. 


1  I  believe. 

2  Voltaire’s  analysis  of  the  composition  of  his  fellow-countrymen  is 
applied  by  Tennyson  to  all  mankind  ;  in  the  sense,  obviously,  that  we  sin 
by  yielding  to  ancestral  brute  promptings. 

There  is  no  room  here  to  investigate  Tennyson’s  evolutionism.  It  is 
strange  enough  to  reflect  that  his  ‘nature  red  in  tooth  and  claw’  antedates 


142 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Over  against  evolutionism  the  theological  position  has 
been  ably  argued  by  Dr.  James  Orr.  He  stands  for 
discontinuity,  possibly  at  the  origin  of  the  human  soul,  cer¬ 
tainly  at  the  emergence  of  sin.  On  moral  grounds  he  postu¬ 
lates  that  the  race  as  such  must  have  had  its  opportunity 
to  choose  innocence.  He  accepts  the  ordinary  evolutionary 
categories,  and  describes  sin  as  an  acquired  quality.  Thus 
he  finds  it  vital  for  the  Christian  position  to  refute  Weis¬ 
mannism,  so  far  as  to  show  that  at  least  certain  acquired 
qualities  may  be  inherited.  Superficial  acquirements,  he 
grants,  need  not  be  heritable  ;  pervasive  influences,  such 
as  sinfulness,  must  be.  Original  sin  is  thus  reduced  to 
hereditary  sin  ;  probably  other  modern  representatives  of 
orthodoxy  could  be  quoted  in  the  same  sense.  This  seems 
morally  dubious.  Should  we  gain  much  in  the  court  of 
conscience  by  transferring  this  damning  heredity  from 
brutes  to  a  hypothetical  first  human  ancestor  ? 

Both  views — the  Brute  Inheritance  and  the  theory  of  sin 
as  a  formidable  Acquired  Quality  bequeathed  by  the  first 
man — are  specimens  of  what  has  been  called  Biological 
Religion.1  They  both  employ  biological  categories  without 
criticism.  They  both  assume  that  these  may  be  applied  just 
as  they  stand  to  the  moral  history  of  man. 

Much  may  be  said  for  continuity  between  the  brute 
life  and  the  human.  In  animals  one  finds  the  begin¬ 
ning  or  foreshadowing  of  moral  good,  of  moral  evil,  possibly 
even  of  religion.  Everything  seems  to  be  present  except 
imputation  or  responsibility.  Again,  man  is  still  a  subject 

Darwin.  Of  course,  he  wrote  after  Lamarck  ;  and  Sir  W.  Robertson  Nicoll 
holds  that  Robert  Chambers’s  Vestiges  must  have  strongly  influenced  In 
Memoriain. 

1  The  title  of  Dr.  T.  C.  Finlayson’s  searching  and  fine-spirited  examina¬ 
tion  of  Henry  Drummond’s  early  book,  Natural  Law  in  the  Spiritual  World. 
One  might  have  suggested  that  the  book  was  not  biological  enough — that  it 
was  mechanical.  In  any  case  it  lacked  the  moral  and  the  spiritual,  as 
Finlayson  showed. 

Biological  religion  might  be  better  represented  by  the  late  Principal 
Simon’s  writings,  or  by  Mr.  W.  D.  M‘Laren’s  Our  Growing  Creed. 


XII.] 


EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE 


143 


for  the  biologist.  It  is  right  to  make  the  experiment, 
what  we  can  learn  by  studying  man  as  an  animal.  The 
physician  must  mainly — but  not,  one  thinks,  entirely — 
contemplate  him  as  such.  On  the  other  hand,  the  differ¬ 
entia  of  mankind  thrusts  itself  upon  our  notice,  and  is 
ethically  all-important.  Dr.  Tennant  is  strong  in  his 
biological  bases.  He  judges  other  writers  mercilessly 1 
from  a  biological  standpoint,  and,  if  they  go  beyond 
naturalism,  condemns  them.  His  weakness  surely  appears 
when  he  has  suddenly  to  desert  his  old  standpoint,  and 
makes  appeal  to  ‘  intuition,’  to  a  ‘  purified  creationism,’ 
to  ‘  Lotze’s  Theism.’  These  more  philosophical  or  more 
ethical  positions  are  not  harmonised  with  the  author’s 
biological  prejudices.  The  different  modes  of  thought  he 
side  by  side  like  fragments  of  distinct  geological  forma¬ 
tions  embedded  in  a  mass  of  conglomerate.  So  far  as  it 
is  a  brute  inheritance,  sin  is  not  sin.  So  far  as  sin  is  sinful 
(‘  exceeding  sinful,’  quotes  Dr.  Tennant),  it  is  more  than 
a  brute  inheritance.  You  find  even  perversions  of  instinct 
among  lower  animals  ;  yet  it  remains  man’s  special  achieve¬ 
ment  to  have  invented  taverns,  opium  dens,  and  houses 
of  ill  fame.  These  are  no  brute  inheritance  but  things 
which  mankind  have  added  to  God’s  world. 

Or,  again,  one  might  argue  thus.  Brute  inheritance  is 
the  raw  material  of  all  character,  good  and  bad,  and  never 
is  more  than  raw  material.  Even  if  we  were  not  descended 
from  merely  animal  forms  of  life,  we  have  animalism  as 
the  basis  of  our  spirituality.  4  Hunger  and  love  ’  are  the  ? 
foundations  of  all  things.  They  may  sink  in  human 
beings  into  greed  and  lust,  or  they  may  rise  into  all  that 
is  most  loyal  and  most  tender  in  human  relationships. 
Brute  inheritance  explains  too  much  and  so  explains 
nothing. 

Or  again ;  according  to  biological  methods,  everything 

1  Especially  in  Origin  and  Propagation  of  Sin.  But  one  understands 
that  he  still  holds  to  these  positions. 


144 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


is  a  brute  inheritance — sin,  conscience,  religion.  Accord¬ 
ing  to  a  sounder  philosophy,  reason  transforms  whatever 
it  inherits  from  lower  levels.  Then  goodness  begins — and 
sin. 

Leaving  this  popular  evolutionary  account  of  sin,  we 
may  turn  back  to  Dr.  Orr’s  rival  yet  kindred  doctrine. 
Waiving  the  demurrer  of  Weismannism,  we  have  still 
this  to  say  from  the  standpoint  of  biology,  that  sin  is 
not  such  a  quality  as  biology  can  deal  with.  Following 
the  lead  of  Darwin,  we  must  regard  the  Nature  which 
biology  studies  as  interested  in  securing  efficiency.  And, 
following  the  lead  of  those  who  have  modified  the  expres¬ 
sion  of  Darwin’s  views,  we  note  that  the  efficiency  con¬ 
templated  is  that  of  the  kind  rather  than  the  individual. 
Nature  thinks  in  species  (‘  So  careful  of  the  type  she  seems, 
So  careless  of  the  single  life  ’),  but  also  in  families.  Any¬ 
thing  that  promotes  the  production  and  safe  rearing  on 
the  average  of  healthy  offspring  is  premiated  ;  anything 
that  fails  to  do  this — still  more,  anything  that  does  the 
opposite — is  penalised.  Where  St.  Paul  says  that  the 
wages  of  sin  is  death ,  biology  affirms  that  the  penalty  of 
inefficiency  is  extinction.  If  sin  is  an  acquired  ‘  quality,’ 
it  ought  to  tend  either  to  the  improvement  or  to  the  deteri¬ 
oration  of  those  affected,  modifying  their  chances  in  the 
struggle.  But  it  affects  the  whole  species.  And  it  has 
not  led  to  human  extinction,  nor  even  arrested  progress. 
Belonging  ex  hypothesi  to  the  whole  race,  it  cannot  throw 
light  upon  the  distinctive  destiny  of  any  part  of  man¬ 
kind  or  of  any  individual. 

There  may  be  only  too  much  reason  to  fear  that  history 
has  its  tests  of  extinction  for  the  ineffective,  and  that  the 
curve  of  human  society  may  incline  towards  that  grim 
penalty.  At  its  lower  end  there  is  no  such  hint.  Instinct 
is  never  master  in  human  society,  for  reason  well-nigh 
destroys  every  instinct  strictly  so-called  ;  but  through 


XII.] 


EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE 


145 


long  ages  the  kindred  and  only  half-conscious  forces  of 
personal  habit  and  tribal  or  national  custom  remain 
supreme.  Enlightenment  brings  in  new  conditions.  The 
fall  of  the  birth-rate  was  the  first  great  danger  signal  in 
ancient  Rome.  It  is  repeating  itself  to-day  in  modern 
France  ;  and  in  the  train  of  France  all  other  modern 
nations  are  steadily  following.  Organised  selfishness  and 
systematic  pleasure-seeking  thrust  aside  the  hereditary 
forces  which  have  made  the  family  strong  with  solemn 
joys  and  purifying  sorrows.  The  handwriting  on  the 
wall  seems  clear.  In  former  ages,  when  the  older  stocks 
were  proving  effete,  unspoiled  barbarian  races  took  up 
the  tasks  of  culture  and  the  inheritance  of  faith.  Where 
are  such  new  races  to  be  discovered  to-day  ?  Among  the 
Aryan  peoples,  in  the  Slavs  at  most.  If  they  in  their  turn 
tread  the  same  dreary  path,  the  white  race  must  become 
a  dwindling  remnant,  and  the  future  will  belong  to  the 
children  of  the  black  and  the  yellow  women — till  these 
too,  perhaps,  catch  the  disease.  Vice  and  selfishness, 
selfishness  and  vice — that  seems  the  end  of  ‘  civilisation  ’ 
and  ‘  progress.’  A  race  that  dooms  itself  to  extinction 
is  in  the  highest  degree  unfit.  Biology  must  regard  it 
as  self-condemned. 

There  is  no  reason  to  hold  that  evolution,  still  less  that 
Darwinism,  guarantees  progress  in  all  the  past  and  all  the 
future.  What  undermines  the  persistence  of  the  species 
destroys  everything.  Unfruitful  indulgence  of  passion, 
under  whatever  conditions,  signifies  decadence,  decay,  and 
death.  This,  once  more,  is  no  brute  inheritance.  Envir¬ 
onment  may  have  extinguished  innumerable  species  ;  per¬ 
version  of  instinct  may  be  known  in  the  animal  world ; 
but  self-extinction  by  abuse  of  natural  desire  is  one  more 
characteristic  human  development.  Ethically  it  may  not 
be  the  greatest  sin.  Biologically  it  surely  ranks  as  worst 
of  all. 

One  does  not  present  this  view  of  the  final  social  danger 

K 


146 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


as  a  hamartiology.  It  takes  to  do  with  the  species  con¬ 
sidered  as  biological  organisms,  not  with  the  individual 
considered  as  a  personal  spirit.  At  the  most,  it  is  a  bio¬ 
logical  parable  of  the  wages  of  sin,  or  a  mere  contribution 
to  fuller  and  graver  doctrines.  The  true  tendency  of  sin 
and  righteousness  is  not  seen  in  extinction  and  survival 
but  in  the  gain  or  forfeiture  of  peace  with  God.  A  race  may 
not  have  reached  such  culminating  wickedness  as  involves 
self-slaughter — some  rain  of  fire  and  brimstone  out  of 
heaven  until  they  are  destroyed.  Yet,  though  surviving, 
it  may  be  very  far  removed  from  the  demands  of  God’s 
holy  will.  If  there  be  a  God,  on  whom  our  blessedness 
depends — if  there  be  a  hereafter,  in  which  the  exploited 
and  finished  past  survives  in  endless  significance — sin 
cannot  be  stated  in  biological  categories.  But  we  bring 
with  us  from  our  Old  and  New  Testament  sources  these 
two  great  presuppositions  for  any  worthy  doctrine  of 
sin — God,  and  immortality.  Sin  is  sin  against  God  and 
not  merely  against  the  laws  of  animal  survival,  though 
sometimes  even  these  may  penalise  it.  Sin  is  the  deed  of 
a  being  who  is  no  mere  passing  representative  of  a  species, 
but  intrinsically  worthy  or  unworthy.  To  gain  fresh 
light  for  theology  from  Darwinism  is  a  reasonable  hope  ; 
to  make  Darwinism  supreme  and  give  it  absolute  authority 
is  to  treat  man  as  if  he  were  indeed  a  beast.  More  theo¬ 
logians  have  fallen  into  this  error  than  one  might  at  first 
suppose. 

Moral  evolution  is  brought  before  us  by  modern  students 
in  at  least  two  distinct  forms.  We  are  pointed  to  it  not 
merely  in  racial  origins,  but  also  as  seen  in  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  the  individual  child-life.  According  to  the  jargon 
of  science,  ‘  ontogeny  ’  recapitulates  *  phylogeny.’  In  the 
unborn  and  in  the  infant  child  there  is  a  rapid  recapitula¬ 
tion  of  stages  through  which  the  race  has  taken  ages  to 
pass.  Once  again,  we  are  told,  all  is  smooth  evolution. 


XII.] 


EVOLUTIONARY  SCIENCE 


147 


We  see  before  our  eyes  the  advance  from  a  simply  animal 
infancy  to  mature  age  with  its  responsibility,  its  interests, 
its  sin.  And  where  in  this  smooth  process  is  there  a  break  ? 
The  animal  becomes  human,  determines  the  human ; 
that  is  the  whole  truth  of  the  matter. 

There  may  be  a  difficulty  for  the  moral  judgment  in 
the  facts  of  moral  inheritance.  But  the  facts  themselves 
are  familiar.  Evolutionary  science  makes  no  additions 
to  them.  Perhaps  it  gives  them  a  new  emphasis  ;  if  so, 
we  may  say  that  its  contributions  are  made  rather  to  the 
definition  of  our  problems  than  to  their  solution.  It 
will  be  part  of  our  task  in  the  chapters  that  follow 
to  answer,  if  we  may,  the  question — How  can  man  be 
regarded  as  responsible  ? 


143 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SIN  AND  THE  MORAL  CONSCIOUSNESS 

The  moral  consciousness  reveals  itself  in  the  history  of 
human  beings  as  the  consciousness  at  first  of  a  child, 
not  a  man.  One  smiles  in  reading  Bishop  Butler 1  at  the 
manifest  perplexity  with  which  he  faces  the  facts  of  in¬ 
fancy  and  youth.  He  would  plainly  have  preferred  a 
world  in  which  souls  stepped  mature  upon  the  stage  of 
life,  like  Athene  issuing  from  the  forehead  of  Zeus.  But, 
in  point  of  fact,  Butler  only  gives  expression  to  a  per¬ 
plexity  which  every  one  who  believes  in  responsibility 
must  understand.  Its  most  startling  manifestation  is 
Kant’s  or  Julius  Muller’s  doctrine  of  non- temporal  self- 
determination  towards  evil. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  have  Christ’s  testimony  :  ‘  Of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  God.’  None  of  the  epistles,  none  of  the 
system-makers,  could  have  reached  to  that  thought.  Jesus 
Christ  was  no  sentimental  litterateur,  saying  pretty  things 
for  their  beauty.  Responsibility,  guilt,  punishment, 
were  thoughts  with  which  he  lived,  amid  which  he 
died.  Yet  he  saw  in  the  artless  and  half -human  child  a 
prophecy  of  what  man  was  to  become  when  struggle  had 
ended  in  victory  and  redemption  was  complete.  To  the 
insight  of  Jesus  there  is  truer  morality  and  godliness  in  a 

1  E.g.  Analogy,  Part  ii.  chap.  vi.  :  ‘Creatures  of  moral  natures  or 
capacities,  for  a  considerable  part  of  that  duration  in  which  they  are  living 
agents,  are  not  at  all  subjects  of  morality  and  religion.'  On  the  other  hand, 
no  one  has  written  more  wisely  on  the  benefits  of  infancy  and  education  than 
Butler  in  Part  I.  chap.  v. 


XIII.] 


SIN  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE 


149 


society  which  includes  children  ;  in  a  life  which  begins  in 
that  strange  nature-dream.  Yet  childhood  is  only  a  parable 
of  the  Christian  character.  We  must  pass  through  a  wide 
compass  of  strange  experiences.  At  the  end,  the  God  of  our 
youth  will  be  revealed  as  God  of  old  age  and  death  and  the 
mysteries  beyond.  Like  little  children,  but  like  in  differ¬ 
ence,  we  may  pass  to  the  fulness  of  our  Father’s  kingdom. 

In  one  of  Mr.  W.  D.  Howells’s  most  poignant  tales,  a 
brilliant  but  drunken  father,  half  rescued  by  the  fault  which 
made  a  cripple  of  his  child,  expresses  the  doubt  whether 
even  God  does  not  4  save  at  the  spigot  and  waste  at  the 
bung.’  This  terrible  picture  forces  upon  us  a  great  pro¬ 
blem.  God  does  much  for  a  life  which  the  world  is  tarnish¬ 
ing  when  He  entrusts  to  its  care  the  mystery  and  glory  of 
childhood.  But  what  of  the  child  ?  Ought  not  the  heirs 
of  the  kingdom  to  have  angel  guardians  rather  than  sin- 
stained  human  parents  ?  Yet  we  must  trust  that  here 
also  God  is  truly  wise.  The  family  system  must  be  best 
not  only  for  parents  but  for  children.  We  begin  the  know¬ 
ledge  of  good  and  evil  in  the  nursery.  Even  the  worldly 
generally  train  children  for  goodness.  While  not  yet  fully 
responsible  beings,  we  have  our  footsteps  set  in  the  paths 
of  right-doing  ;  and  home  yields  to  our  faith  the  name  of 
God  as  Father. 

When  we  pass  into  manhood,  the  conditions  are  changed. 
We  are  now  fully  responsible,  but  our  human  environment 
is  no  longer  bent  upon  training  us  for  pure  goodness. 
There  is  a  law  forbidding  certain  crimes.  There  is  a  public 
opinion  defining  a  certain  practicable  standard  of  re¬ 
spectability.  These  we  disregard  at  our  peril.  But  4  law  ’ 
in  its  proper  and  original  sense  has  coarse  meshes,  and  the 
standard  of  respectability  is  unexacting.  So  long  as  we  do 
not  defy  these,  the  world  goes  on  to  praise  worldly  success 
and  to  recommend  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.  There  are  but 
few  higher  voices.  The  world  gives  us  our  opportunity  as 
responsible  souls,  but  it  sees  that  we  are  well  tempted.  If 


150  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [cn. 

we  could  fully  fathom  worldliness,  we  should  understand 
a  great  deal  about  temptation  and  about  sin. 

True  moral  victory  depends  upon  an  inward  goodness, 
which  may  be  called  the  synthesis  of  childhood  and  worldly 
manhood.  Once  again  we  face  the  ideal  of  pure  goodness, 
not  now  as  children  but  as  responsible  adults  ;  and  the  ideal 
has  immensely  deepened.  Of  course  it  must  be  understood 
that  the  ideal  is  not  to  be  attained  by  the  individual  in 
isolation  from  society.  The  position  which  tempts  him 
gives  him  his  opportunity.  His  temptations  themselves 
are  discipline.  But  social  goodness  must  be  prolonged 
into  a  region  where  the  individual  fights  his  own  battles, 
and  gains — so  far  as  human  co-operation  is  concerned — 
his  own  victory. 

In  this  inner  life  he  meets  with  God.  Potentially  or 
with  actual  knowledge,  and  if  so,  then  with  ‘  fear  and  great 
joy,’  we  find  as  our  associate  in  the  inner  life  that  Father 
God  of  whom  childhood  vaguely  prophesied.  By  excep¬ 
tion,  unhappily,  the  morally  earnest  man  may  fail  to  recog¬ 
nise  God.  There  may  seem  to  be  an  unbroken  soliloquy, 
as  in  the  noble  but  icy  maxims  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  or  in 
kindred  manifestations  of  more  recent  date.  Yet,  when  it 
has  reached  true  inwardness,  morality  is  on  the  very  verge 
of  passing  into  religion.  That  is  the  natural  fulfilment  of 
its  own  proper  movement.  But,  with  the  passage,  what  a 
transformation  !  Aspiration  is  no  longer  soliloquy  but 
prayer.  The  moral  life  is  now  no  lonely  struggle  ;  God 
is  for  us,  and  nothing  can  stand  against  us.  I  do  not  at¬ 
tempt  here  to  say  under  what  historical  or  spiritual  con¬ 
ditions  this  reinterpretation  takes  place.  But  it  comes 
in  its  wonderfulness,  leaving  all  things  what  they  were,  yet 
changing  all.  We  are  still  to  obey  conscience  ;  we  must 
still  fight  and  overcome  ;  but  we  are  made  more  than 
conquerors  through  One  that  loved  us. 

We  have  been  trying  to  describe  the  psychological 
evolution  of  conscience  in  the  human  individual.  It  has 


XIII.]  SIN  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE  151 

its  roots  in  the  family  and  in  society.  Apart  from  these 
teachers,  conscience  might  never  exist.  In  its  voice  the 
dead  or  absent  parent,  the  impersonal  society,  speaks — 
to  praise  us  or  to  blame.  But  conscience  is  a  living  thing. 
It  cannot  be  confined  to  echoing  like  a  parrot  what 
teachers  or  rulers  have  told  us.  They  spoke  to  us  with 
authority  because  in  them  too  there  was  a  living  conscience. 
In  morals,  above  all  other  regions,  we  must  exclude  the 
definition  of  education  as  a  4  putting  in  5  1  from  outside. 
Moral  education  is  the  awakening  of  a  faculty  of  principles. 
There  is  a  response  from  within.  To  use  the  biological 
language,  which  may  best  appeal  to  our  very  unphilosophical 
age — though  such  language  is  radically  defective — what 
comes  from  without  is  a  4  stimulus  ’  merely.  Morality  has 
its  own  inward  certainties.  And,  when  morality  passes 
into  religion,  the  imaginary  impartial  spectator  before 
whom  we  wince  becomes  the  living  and  all-knowing  God 
before  whom  we  worship. 

Sin  comes  to  be  recognised  as  we  note  our  failures  in  the 
great  task  of  inward  loyalty ;  more  definitely,  of  course, 
when  we  stand  consciously  in  the  presence  of  God.  First 
in  the  home,  then  in  society,  man  is  trained  as  a  doer  of 
right  or  wrong  ;  and  he  knows  this.  To  such  a  being — 
not  to  an  imaginary  isolated  saint  or  sinner  ;  certainly  not 
to  a  mere  animal ;  as  certainly  not  to  a  mere  animal  plus 
intellect — God  speaks  in  the  gospel.  Even  independently 
of  the  gospel  man  has  inner  life  enough  to  know  himself 
sinful ;  though  apart  from  communion  with  God  he  will 
have  a  most  inadequate  estimate  of  sin. 

It  is  peculiarly  necessary  to  insist  upon  such  elementary 
truths  in  an  age  like  ours,  when  morality  proper  threatens 
to  fade  away  and  be  lost  in  a  world  of  phenomenal  sequences. 
In  Middlemarck  we  are  told  that  the  good  people  of  that 
typical  country  town  found  4  there  was  no  need  to  praise 

1  See  above,  p.  115.  To  speak  frankly,  I  do  not  see  how  a  consistent 
empiricism  can  fail  to  challenge  the  very  bases  of  Christianity. 


152 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


anybody  for  writing  a  book,  since  it  was  always  done  by 
somebody  else.’  The  seemingly  gentler,  but  equally  cruel, 
opinion  of  to-day  shrinks  from  admitting  that  any  one  is 
to  be  blamed  for  committing  a  sin,  since  ‘  somebody  else  * 
has  always  done  it.  In  repudiating  such  a  policy  of  con¬ 
tempt  towards  our  race,  one  does  not  wish  to  ignore  real 
perplexities,  or  to  deny  the  share  of  blame  due  to  the 
extravagances  of  past  theology  for  the  present  recoil  into 
hedonistic  softness.  Yet  conscience  forbids  us  to  drift 
with  the  current  of  the  hour,  or  to  lull  tempted  souls  into  a 
deadly  security. 

Besides  defending  conscience,  Christians  are  bound  to 
defend  the  existence  of  free  will  in  man.  The  same  moral 
education  which  awakens  a  source  of  knowdedge  within  us, 
commanding  and  forbidding,  praising  and  blaming,  also 
leads  to  the  recognition  of  a  powder  of  personal  choice.  We 
have  seen  that  Christian  theology  from  Augustine  down¬ 
wards  has  implicated  all  its  sternest  theodicies  with  the 
recognition  of  freedom,  at  least  in  Adam.  In  itself,  such 
theologising  may  be  no  better  than  a  cruel  evasion ;  yet 
the  admission  is  profoundly  significant. 

There  are  two  senses  in  which  freedom  of  wdll  may  be 
affirmed.  A  lower  freedom,  freedom  of  choice,  is  specially 
called  by  Kant  4  free  will.’  1  The  higher  freedom,  freedom 
from  the  sway  of  evil,  Kant  generally  designates  autonomy. 
The  two  reappear,  in  Julius  Muller’s  more  precise  dis¬ 
cussion  of  the  special  question  now  before  us,  as  4  formal  ’ 
and  4  real  ’  freedom.  This  pair  of  terms  goes  back  to 
Hegel.  With  him  it  had  a  merely  political  reference,  and 
served  as  an  apology  for  Toryism.  Well-governed  Prussia 
enjoyed  ‘  real  freedom,’  and  had  no  need  to  envy  the  merely 
4  formal  ’  freedom  of  constitutional  England.  The  phrase¬ 
ology  was  borrowed  in  a  sense  of  his  own  by  Schelling,2 

1  Abbott  points  out  that,  in  later  editions  of  bis  ethical  writings,  Kant 
inclined  to  write  Willkur  for  free  choice.  English  readers  cannot  regard  the 
suggestion  as  felicitous. 

2  On  this  obscure  point  Muller  may  be  consulted. 


XIII.] 


SIN  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE 


153 


from  whom  Muller  took  it  over,  simplifying  it  and  using 
it  for  the  more  important  ethical  distinction.  Its  meaning 
now  differs  widely  from  Hegel’s  usage.  It  has  passed  from 
politics  into  ethics,  and  the  terms  from  being  rivals 
have  become  partners.  We  are  done  with  the  insinuation 
that,  if  we  somehow  capture  real  freedom,  formal  freedom 
may  be  neglected.  Muller  sees  clearly  that  we  need  both. 
It  is  a  great  advance  to  have  this  made  plain.  Formal 
freedom  without  real  might  be  called  in  Kantian  phrase 
‘  empty,’  and  real  freedom  without  formal  ‘  blind.’ 

‘  Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how ; 

Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  Thine.’ 

Sin  now  defines  itself  not  merely  as  disloyalty  to  the  con¬ 
science  but  as  abuse  of  free  will.  It  abuses  the  formal 
prerogative  of  freedom  ;  it  exercises  will  not  in  the  service 
of  God  and  goodness  but  of  self,  or  of  momentary  impulse, 
or  of  some  lower  good  which,  usurping  a  higher  place  than 
is  due  to  it,  must  rank  as  evil. 

We  look  then  to  moral  experience  as  certifying  to  the 
mind  that  moral  facts  and  forces  are  real,  and  that  sin  is  evil. 
Many  a  learner  in  the  school  of  moral  experience  may  find 
it  impossible  to  prove,  perhaps  even  to  define,  personal 
identity  ;  but  experience  makes  each  aware,  with  an  in¬ 
ward  personal  knowledge,  that  it  would  be  a  lying  evasion 
to  pretend  he  is  not  the  same  person  who  committed  his 
past  actions,  whether  good  or  bad.  There  may  be  for  him 
endless  difficulty  about  the  thought  of  immortality ;  but 
the  moral  argument,  formulated  or  unformulated,  will 
work  in  his  mind,  and  he  must  recognise  that  the  accident 
of  death  puts  no  term  to  human  accountableness.  Even 
if  no  future  judgment  were  to  be  held  on  him,  he  would 
deserve  to  incur  one.  Again,  he  might  not  be  able  to  give 
you  a  philosophy  of  conscience  ;  and,  if  he  compares  his 
own  most  sacred  convictions  with  those  of  others,  he  may 


154 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


encounter  perplexing  discords  ;  yet  not  such  as  to  make 
him  doubt  that  all  minds  are  open  to  the  ideal,  are  seeking 
after  unity,  and  are  in  some  true  measure  converging 
towards  it.  It  might  be  a  mere  repetition  of  the  last  sen¬ 
tence  in  different  terms  if  we  spoke  of  common  recognition 
of  a  moral  law  ;  the  expression  is  in  general  use  ;  it  is 
sanctioned  by  Kant,  borrowed  even  by  Ritschl ;  it  points  to 
the  recognition  of  principles.  Yet  the  term  has  associations 
which  might  mislead,  and  it  is  very  definitely  rejected  by 
St.  Paul.  Lastly,  the  plain  moral  person  will  be  aware 
that  he  is  no  automaton.  As  he  is  bound  by  the  truths 
which  reveal  themselves  to  conscience,  so  he  is  able  to 
embody  them  in  act.  He  is  free  from  natural  law,  and 
must  rise  to  freedom  from  caprice,  since  he  is  called  in 
himself  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of  what  is  good. 

The  last  point  may  seem  to  create  a  difficulty  for  the 
religious  mind.  Is  man,  already  stained  with  evil,  really 
able  to  decide  in  favour  of  what  is  right  ?  Absolutely 
startling  expression  is  given  to  this  postulate  by  a  writer 
like  Kant,  who  recognises  radical  evil  in  man,  yet  insists 
upon  freedom  in  a  way  which  sacrifices  to  it  every  possible 
affirmation  of  grace  in  God.  Yet  morality,  and  Chris¬ 
tianity  itself  as  the  heir  of  the  world’s  moral  aspirations 
and  hopes,  cannot  refuse  to  concur  with  the  positive 
contents  of  Kant’s  statement.  In  some  true  sense,  man, 
who  is  still  a  responsible  being,  is  still  free  to  choose  life 
rather  than  death.  One  can  recognise  as  morally  con¬ 
ceivable  wffiat  is  suggested  if  not  affirmed  by  Julius 
Muller — a  condition  of  moral  beings  who,  when  the  gospel 
draws  near  to  them,  become  free  to  choose  the  good,  but 
at  all  other  times  are  helpless  slaves  of  an  evil  into  which 
each  has  freely  sold  himself.  Such  conditions,  we  say, 
are  conceivable  ;  but  they  are  not  those  under  which  our 
conscience  tells  us  that  we  live.  Nor  is  any  such  state 
of  literal  deadness  contemplated  in  the  New  Testament. 
We  have  already  had  occasion  to  note  the  emphatic 


XIII.] 


SIN  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE 


155 


statements  to  the  contrary  found  even  in  St.  Paul,  at 
Romans  ii. 

What  relation  shall  ethical  philosophy  hold  to  the  rudi¬ 
mentary  truths  just  enumerated  ?  The  first  business  of 
such  philosophy  is  to  vindicate  against  doubt  the  imme¬ 
diate  contents  of  the  moral  consciousness.  Now,  rival 
philosophies  hold  the  field.  It  is  not  probable  that  they 
will  ever  be  reduced  to  one  ;  nor  would  Christianity  act 
wisely  by  absolutely  identifying  its  fortunes  with  any  one 
school.  We  have  to  steer  a  careful  course  between  natural¬ 
istic  philosophies,  which  never  permit  ethics  to  come  into 
being,  and  pantheising  philosophies  of  the  Absolute,  which 
claim  to  transcend  the  contrast  between  right  and  wrong. 
Even  if  we  should  fail  to  formulate  the  ideally  adequate 
ethics,  Christianity  may  five  in  the  recognition  of  moral 
facts.  Even  if  we  do  attain  to  a  noble  and  trustworthy 
philosophy,  the  facts  of  moral  experience  must  continue 
to  be  our  central  light. 

Another  task  for  philosophy  would  be  to  define  the 
contents  of  goodness,  and — reading  downwards  into 
negative  values — of  sin.  Different  philosophies  are  in 
different  degrees  predisposed  for  this  task.  Intuitionalism 
and  other  philosophies  of  moral  law  recognise  the  right 
as  a  sum  of  separate  requirements,  and  view  wrongdoing 
chiefly  as  transgression  or  guilt.  Naturalistic  and  empiri¬ 
cist  philosophies  define  the  right  as  personally  pleasant, 
or  as  socially  useful,  or  as  both,  and  tend  to  identify  sin 
with  one  great  but  limited  field  of  its  manifestation — the 
brute  inheritance,  chiefly  of  sensuality.  Idealism  defines 
goodness  as  self-realisation.  In  seeming  contrast  but 
perhaps  in  real  harmony  with  this,  Julius  Muller  defines 
sin  as  selfishness.  If  we  must  accept  a  definition  of  the 
contents  of  sin,  we  should  prefer  this  one.  Sin  is  a  wrong 
assertion  of  the  lower  self,  while  virtue  is  the  fulfilment 
of  the  better  and  higher.  But  a  different  view  might  be 
taken.  It  might  be  no  mere  paradox  to  contend  that, 


156 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[ch. 


even  if  goodness  can  be  summed  up  in  a  formula,  sin 
cannot,  being  essentially  anarchical  and  self-destructive ; 
that  Satan  is  verily  divided  against  Satan,  and  that  his 
kingdom  must  come  to  naught. 

Is  sin  from  the  moral  point  of  view  universal  ?  Dr.  Tennant 
and  Professor  Wheeler  Robinson,  like  Ritschl  before  them, 
have  urged  that  we  ought  to  treat  the  affirmation  of 
universality  as  a  generalisation  rather  than  as  a  law — a 
thing  found  true  in  all  the  past,  but  not  rigorously  pre¬ 
dictable.  So  far  as  morality  is  concerned,  in  contrast  with 
the  higher  development  which  we  call  religion,  this  may 
be  all  that  it  is  wise  to  say.  In  the  next  chapter  we 
must  inquire  how  religion  regards  the  problem.  Some¬ 
thing  no  doubt  will  be  gained  for  morality  if  we  can 
establish  that  sinlessness  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  im¬ 
possibility,  or  a  sinless  human  being  as  a  monster.  On 
the  other  hand,  even  morality,  if  it  cares  to  cast  its  eye 
over  the  facts,  must  report  an  uninterrupted  prevalence 
of  the  sinful  taint.  All  lives  save  One,  in  all  ages,  have 
more  or  less  suffered  from  this  blight.  Ethics  may  chiefly 
regard  wrongdoing  as  a  thing  of  individual  acts.  Again, 
ethics  may  view  sin  as  dominant  in  the  wicked  but 
subjugated  by  the  good.  It  may  have  good  grounds 
within  its  own  region  for  this  point  of  view.  The  highest 
teaching  of  all  allows  it.  Jesus  speaks  in  such  terms. 
And  yet  perhaps  in  the  long  run  not  even  morality  could 
feel  satisfied  if  it  broke  off  here,  and  carried  no  further 
than  this  point  its  study  of  the  tragedy  of  sin. 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


157 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 

Into  the  moral  analysis  of  the  thought  of  sin  we  now 
introduce,  no  longer  tentatively  but  deliberately,  the 
thought  of  God.  We  do  not  say,  of  gods  ;  it  is  part  of 
the  task  of  religion,  in  its  own  light  and  from  its  own 
motives,  independently  of  lessons  from  morality,  to  make 
the  great  advance  to  monotheism.  At  the  thought  of 
God  then,  great  and  one  and  good,  there  is  a  precipita¬ 
tion  or  crystallisation  of  ethical  beliefs.  They  assume 
a  new  definiteness. 

We  may  connect  God  with  the  conscience,  whether 
conscience  be  viewed  as  a  judge  of  the  past  or  as  a  guide 
to  the  future.  In  either  respect  it  gains  immensely  by 
ranking  as  God’s  voice.  The  authority  of  conscience 
becomes  more  plainly  absolute.  Whatever  we  do,  we 
dare  not  transgress  warnings  which  we  have  reason  to 
regard  as  its  real  dictates.  The  wisdom  revealed  in  our 
consciences  is  not  absolute.  It  is  partial,  if  growing. 
Conscience  is  but  an  imperfect  viceroy  of  Him  for  whom 
it  speaks.  Yet  it  is  invested  with  His  own  authority. 

Still  more  significan^changes  are  now  set  up  in  the 
thought  of  free  will.  as  against  nature,  man  is  not 

and  must  not  be  freqHBm  God.  In  personal  fellowship 
with  God  he  is  to  finP||ue  freedom.  Mystically,  if  we 
like  to  call  it  so,  the  re||plus  man  defies  seemingly  inevit¬ 
able  rational  infereiBB.M  Viewed  from  the  inside  of 
experience,  the  personality  of  God  and  that  of  man  are 


158 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


not  rivals,  so  that  more  given  to  the  one  implies  less  left 
for  the  other.  Just  because  God  is  personal,  we  are — 
or  we  may  grow  to  become — true  persons.  Again,  just 
because  God  is  personal,  personality  is  revealed  as  the 
supreme  category  of  the  universe.  A  ‘  blessed  truth  ’ 
indeed,  however  the  literary  man  may  jeer  and  mock  at 
the  assertion.  There  may  be  difficulty  in  formulating 
the  position,  or  in  vindicating  it  by  logic  ;  .  but  faith  states 
it  in  a  single  phrase  which  ought  to  silence  even  the  brilliant 
literary  mocker,  when  it  tells  us  that  God  is  man’s  Father, 
that  man  is  God’s  child.  This  is  a  new  anatysis  of  freedom, 
possible  only  in  the  light  of  God.  And,  if  we  cannot 
claim  absolute  power  for  the  will  any  more  than  absolute 
wisdom  for  the  conscience,  yet,  in  this  region  as  in  the 
other,  our  finite  and  progressive  attainments  draw  from  God 
as  their  fountain  and  aspire  to  Him  as  their  certain  goal. 

If  this  be  true,  it  is  dangerous  error  to  teach  that  man’s 
need  of  God  is  created  for  the  first  time  by  sin.  Such  a 
view  is  implied  in  a  great  deal  of  theologising  ;  it  is  stated 
with  unusual  clearness  in  one  of  the  essays  of  Rothe’s 
Zur  Dogmatik.  According  to  Rothe,  our  religious  con¬ 
sciousness  because  weakened  by  sin  is  unable  to  find  God 
apart  from  His  help.  Surely  dependence  upon  God  is 
man’s  glory  and  not  his.  shame.  The  present  writer 
stated  this  long  ago  as  a  positive  counterpart  to  the  in¬ 
tolerable  Calvinistic  Conception  of  Grace  1 ;  and,  although 
the  position  may  seem  to  evade  rather  than  solve  the 
problems  raised  by  sin,  if  it  is  a  true  position  it  cannot  be 
irrelevant  to  our  further  study. 

So  far,  however,  we  have  conjpmplated  God’s  relation 
to  human  goodness.  Deep  and  ^dark  problems — it  may 
be,  insoluble  problems — await  us  we  pass  on  to  speak 
of  God’s  relation  to  moral  evil. 

The  religious  view  of  sin  regards  it  as  universal.  It 

1  In  Essays  Towards  a  New  Theology  (1889), 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


169 


finds  the  whole  of  mankind  to  be  in  need  of  redemption. 
And  this  view  becomes  a  keen  and  immediate  experience 
to  any  one  who  stands  like  Isaiah  or  Job  in  the  presence 
of  God,  or  like  Simon  Peter  in  the  presence  of  Christ. 
Undoubtedly  the  divine  nature  makes  exceedingly  high 
demands  upon  us ;  but  the  love  of  God,  whatever  varied 
forms  it  takes,  never  compromises  the  requirements  of 
holiness  for  our  momentary  convenience.  God  asks  great 
things,  but  He  gives  the  greatest  of  all.  In  His  presence 
we  know  at  once  that  we  ought  to  be  like  Him,  and  that 
we  are  not.  We  are  polluted  ;  He  is  stainless  white.  This 
unearthly  purity  of  the  most  high  God  has  found  embodi¬ 
ment  upon  earth  in  one  fife.  Seeing  Christ  we  see  the 
Father.  We  know  that  divine  perfection  is  not  a  mere 
imagination.  It  is  a  fact ;  it  judges  us  and  all  men  ; 
it  saves. 

But  a  difficulty  arises  here.  What  if  the  utterances 
of  the  pious  mind  in  the  presence  of  God  or  Christ  are 
rhetorical  or  poetical  rather  than  logically  exact  ? 
What  if  every  finite  and  created  spirit,  standing  before 
God,  must  pass  through  experiences  not  only  of  humilia¬ 
tion  but  of  guilt  ?  Does  not  the  alleged  religious  experi¬ 
ence  prove  too  much  ?  If  a  sense  of  guilt  is  inevitable 
when  a  creature  stands  before  God,  guilt  ceases  really  to 
be  guilt,  and  responsibility  is  lost.  The  Old  Testament 
thought  of  the  angels  themselves  as  spotted  with  evil. 
Jesus  Christ  proclaims  that  none  is  good  save  God. 

It  is  to  be  granted  that  devout  reverence  does  not  nicely 
distinguish  the  inferiority  of  creaturehood  or  of  sub¬ 
ordination  to  the  sole  fountain  of  purity  from  the  guilt 
which  creaturely  weakness  so  easily  incurs.  The  experi¬ 
ence  we  are  studying  has  part  of  its  importance  for  our 
thought  of  God.  No  o fie  to  whom  God  has  been  revealed 
in  moral  and  spiritual  communion  can  think  of  Him  as 
compromised  by  evil  in  any  degree.  The  opposite  becomes 
a  moral  postulate  about  God,  as  certain  as  the  moral 


160  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [oh. 

postulates  regarding  man  studied  in  our  last  chapter. 
Nor  is  it  a  postulate  merely.  It  is  an  experience. 

On  its  other  side,  the  same  experience  reveals  in  our 
own  case  not  mere  finitude  but  sinful  impurity.  To 
assure  ourselves  that  the  same  holds  good  regarding  our 
fellows,  we  need  a  doctrine  of  connection  with  the  race 
and  of  its  evil  plight.  Here  we  come  upon  the  thought 
of  bondage,  seemingly  at  least  so  contrasted  with  the 
ethical  postulate  of  freedom.  The  race  is  sin-stained. 
Any  individual  member  of  the  race,  not  holding  a  unique 
position  within  it  as  its  Saviour  and  Lord,  would  be  a 
mere  anomaly  if  he  were  withdrawn  from  fellowship  with 
it  in  sin.  Some  would  explain  this  to-day  by  inheritance 
from  brutes.  But,  as  we  saw,  even  the  highest  human 
quality  has  an  animal  basis  ;  and,  if  there  is  any  truth  in 
responsibility  and  freedom,  bad  ethical  qualities  cannot 
be  simply  carried  forward  from  pre-ethical  stages.  Others 
explain  by  descent  from  Adam,  or  from  a  hypothetical 
primitive  generation  of  human  beings  analogous  to  the 
Adam  and  Eve  of  legend,  who  enjoyed  and  abused  a 
real  opportunity  of  rising  to  moral  freedom  and  initiating 
a  sinless  development.  But  this  seems  too  much  to  pos¬ 
tulate.  If  it  is  possible,  under  the  reign  of  God’s  justice 
and  love,  for  later  generations  to  find  themselves  under 
the  ban,  we  cannot  be  sure  that  any  generation  was  exempt 
from  it.  It  would  hardly  alleviate  the  mystery  of 
our  position  if  Adam  or  his  equivalent  had  historically 
enjoyed  such  an  opportunity  as  might  in  itself  seem 
ethically  more  normal. 

We  are  safer  in  affirming  that  frequent  choice  of  evil 
on  the  part  of  the  race  has  dislocated  its  relation  to  God. 
Though  communion  with  God  is  not  abolished,  it  is  in¬ 
definitely  weakened.  Romans  i  describes  how  mankind 
turned  away  from  the  knowledge  of  God  which  nature 
and  conscience  afforded  ;  and  this  theoretical  deduction 
is  not  without  its  confirmation  in  the  modern  study  of  the 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


161 


history  of  religion.  Andrew  Lang  and  others  report  from 
many  quarters  high  thoughts  of  God  among  low  races — 
high  thoughts,  but  possessing  little  efficacy.  One  would 
not  make  one’s  faith  dependent  on  the  vindication 
of  this  finding  in  Comparative  Religion.  Still  it  seems 
well  established ;  and  prejudice  rather  than  any  real 
counter-evidence  may  explain  its  rejection  by  those 
authorities  who  deny  or  ignore  it.  In  any  case  the  hypo¬ 
thesis  illustrates  what  we  mean  by  the  human  race  turning 
away  from  God,  and  throwing  into  confusion  the  channels 
of  intercourse  with  Him.  True,  it  is  not  our  relations 
with  God  alone  that  are  disordered.  Judged  by  any 
high  ideal,  man’s  relations  with  man  are  also  dislocated. 
He  wrongs  his  fellows  and  is  wronged  by  them.  This 
is  another  aspect  of  the  central  disturbance.  Not  truly 
loving  our  fellows,  we  cannot  love  God.  Being  wrong  with 
Him,  we  cannot  be  right  with  them. 

There  are  twro  senses  in  which  men  may  be  connected 
with  each  other  in  evil.  We  may  inherit  evil  from  the 
past.  In  that  case,  even  our  purblind  vision  can  see 
that  responsibility  and  guilt  are  proportionally  lessened  ; 
and  God,  who  is  greater  than  we,  will  form  the  same  judg¬ 
ment.  But  we  may  also  conspire  to  encourage  one  another 
in  wrongdoing ;  and  such  conspiracy,  by  human  and 
divine  law,  is  wickeder  than  private  transgression.  Now 
the  history  of  mankind  is  full  of  the  records  of  both  types 
of  connection  in  evil.  Unfortunately  theological  thought, 
from  the  Second  Commandment  to  the  Svnod  of  Dort, 
has  given  most  of  its  attention  to  the  wrong  type.  We 
have  been  taught  to  think  of  sin  as  an  inheritance  ;  but 
inheritance,  if  it  does  not  exclude  real  guilt,  at  least  seri¬ 
ously  lessens  responsibility.  Even  modern  writers  find 
it  natural  to  speak  of  what  ‘  man  ’  did,  as  if  they  still 
believed  in  some  colossal  individual  Adam  who  ruined 
the  race.  It  might  be  safer  if  wTe  habitually  wrote,  *  men  ’ 
have  done  this  or  that  evil. 


162 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Yet  there  remains  the  other  element  of  guilty  fellow¬ 
ship  in  an  evil  purpose.  The  generations  overlap.  Social 
heredity,  as  taught  by  Ritschl,  is  a  wiser  assertion  than 
brutal  or  Adamic  heredity,  not  simply  because  it  lies 
within  a  truly  moral  region,  but  because  it  points  to  a 
combination  of  corporate  wrongdoing  with  individual 
guilt.  Evil  custom  descends,  only  because  many  free 
acts  by  individuals  sanction  and  embody  it.  But  it  does, 
alas,  descend !  The  world  organises  itself  not  on  the 
devilish  principle  of  conscious  uttermost  opposition  to 
God,  but  on  the  principle  of  refusing  all  sacrifice  for  the 
good  cause.  If  we  rightly  understand  what  we  mean, 
we  may  truly  say,  not  only  sin  is  the  deed  of  men,  but  of 
man. 

In  the  presence  of  God,  then,  the  evil  state  of  the  world 
is  brought  to  consciousness.  The  confession  runs,  not 
merely  ‘  I  am  unclean,’  but  ‘  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  an 
unclean  people.’  Morality  may  prefer  to  say,  All  men 
hitherto  have  sinned  ;  religion  can  hardly  fail  to  affirm, 
All  men  are  sinners.  We  do  not  seriously  need  to  await 
with  note-book  and  pencil  registering  the  deeds  of  our 
children  before  we  can  ascertain  whether  they  are  to  prove 
sin- stained  or  sinless.  Religion  affirms  that  sin  is  universal 
in  the  sense  that  all  men  share  it.  Again,  it  is  universal 
because  pervasive  of  the  character.  The  question  is 
more  than  one  of  individual  bad  actions  contrasted  with 
individual  good  ones.1  Once  more,  sin  is  universal,  because 
there  is  a  real  connection  between  the  least  and  the  gravest 
sin,  or  fault,  or  vice.  We  may  rightly  divide  our  fellows 
into  the  good  and  the  bad.  Yet  it  is  never  safe  to  place 
ourselves  in  the  first  class  ;  and  when  we  go  deep  enough 
we  find  there  is  one  misery  in  which  we  are  all  sharers. 
And  over  against  it  stands  one  hope.2 

1  So  perhaps  at  Ezekiel  xviii. 

2  The  old  extravagant  doctrine  that  all  men  are  at  the  last  stage  of  wicked¬ 
ness  is  fortunately  dead  to-day. 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


163 


Some  further  dogmatic  positions  may  be  reviewed. 

We  shall  do  well  to  disencumber  theology  of  the  affirma¬ 
tion  that  physical  death  is  due  to  sin.  Against  this  the 
evidence  of  science  seems  decisive.  Again,  we  shall  do 
well  to  withdraw  the  assertion  that  all  pain  is  punitive. 
Some  unquestionably  is,  but  assuredly  some  is  not. 
Bushnell 1  has  spoken  of  prehuman  pain  and  death  in  the 
animal  world  as  4  anticipative  consequences  ’  of  man’s 
transgressions.  With  no  great  nicety  of  logic,  Bushnell 
claims  that  we  meet  with  anticipative  consequences  every 
time  a  prison  is  built  before  the  crimes  are  committed 
which  are  to  fill  it.2 

If  wTe  must  dogmatise  on  the  creationist-traducianist  issue, 
a  new  traducianism  might  be  proposed — social,  not  physical. 
The  soul  or  mind  is  drawn  not  merely  from  physical  ancestors 
but  from  teachers  living  and  dead.  From  past  minds  we 
inherit ;  from  contemporaries  we  gain  in  the  reciprocal 
communion  of  free  actions.  Nature  and  nurture,  when 
we  speak  of  mind  or  of  morals,  absolutely  shade  into  each 
other.  It  has  been  well  said  that  creationism  stands  for 
the  immediate  relation  of  each  soul  to  God.  That  is  a 
great  truth.  But  surely  immediacy  may  arise  out  of 
cancelled  mediation.  God  who,  says  Butler,  4  does  not 
seem  to  do  anything  without  means  ’  need  not  produce 
human  souls  according  to  the  school  definition  of  a  miracle, 
by  an  immediacy  which  rigidly  excludes  mediation  ;  least 
of  all  surely  when  the  creative  act  follows  on  the  exercise 
of  the  function  of  sex. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  need  not  claim  that  this  revised 
traducianism  is  ultimate  metaphysical  and  moral  truth. 

We  have  now  to  compare  the  decision  here  reached, 

1  And  I  believe  Secretan  also  ;  Bushnell,  in  Nature  and  the  Supernatural. 

2  A  nearer  parable  is  furnished  by  the  lady  who  whipped  her  children 
every  morning  because  they  were  sure  to  need  whipping  before  night.  We 
do  not  hear,  however,  that  even  this  person  completed  her  precautions  by 
whipping  the  cat  and  dog. 


164 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


that  human  sin  is  universal,  with  the  findings  of  our  last 
chapter,  where  we  held  that  according  to  the  moral  con¬ 
sciousness  sin  is  the  guilty,  because  free,  choice  of  indi¬ 
viduals.  If  we  cannot  fully  harmonise  the  two  positions, 
we  must  define  the  difference  between  them  and  seek  to 
limit  it  as  far  as  we  may. 

Upon  certain  hypotheses  our  difficulty  would  vanish. 
First,  if  we  could  believe  in  a  divine  covenant  immedi¬ 
ately  imputing  the  sin  of  Adam  to  his  offspring.  Then, 
by  means  of  a  legal  fiction,  we  should  entirely  harmonise 
the  moral  postulate  of  freedom  (in  Adam)  with  the  reli¬ 
gious  postulate  of  universal  guilt.  Again,  Julius  Muller’s 
doctrine  of  a  non-temporal  fall  meets  all  the  demands  of 
justice,  though  it  is  discredited  by  lack  of  evidence,  and 
by  the  manifest  difficulty  of  adjusting  the  strange  doc¬ 
trine  to  the  facts  of  racial  sin.  The  same  criticism  might 
be  passed  upon  a  doctrine  whose  revival  is  threatened 
to-day — that  of  reincarnation.1 

It  has  also  been  claimed  that  the  Brute-Inheritance 
theory  relieves  the  difficulty.  One  would  be  inclined 
to  rejoin  that  the  theory  fails  to  formulate  and  even  to 
comprehend  the  true  moral  problem.  Its  proper  affinities 
are  with  determinism — a  belief  which  involves  the  whole¬ 
sale  destruction  of  morality  and  Christianity. 

The  Brute-Inheritance  theory  appears  in  a  modified 
shape  when  Dr.  Tennant  associates  it  with  libertarianism, 
pronounces  for  a  real  chance  of  sinless  development,  and 
explains  its  non-arrival  by  the  ‘  exceeding  difficulty  ’ 
of  the  task.  One  is  glad  to  find  Dr.  Tennant  adhering 
to  his  libertarianism  2  and  emphasising  his  positive  beliefs 
more  than  he  had  done  in  his  earlier  writings.  But  one 
doubts  his  logic.  When  Origen  talked  of  a  fall  of  souls, 

1  Dr.  Orr’s  reduction  of  orthodoxy  to  a  doctrine  of  inherited  corruption 
does  not  face  the  conditions  of  our  present  problem.  It  might  be  morally 
helpful  to  believe  that  Adain  enjoyed  a  genuine  chance.  But  no  light  would 
be  thrown  thereby  upon  present  human  helplessness. 

8  In  The  Concept  of  Sin  (1912). 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


165 


he  knew  of  at  least  One  that  stood — the  human  soul  of 
Jesus.  When  Julius  Muller  put  forward  a  kindred  view, 
he  knew  of  many  souls  that  overcame,  although  (Scripture 
convinces  him)  they  must  be  pursuing  their  careers  out 
of  touch  with  us  in  some  happier  world  than  this.  Logically 
possible,  practically  hopeless — does  not  Dr.  Tennant’s 
position  recall  the  Calvinistic  doctrine  of  a  light  which 
damned  the  heathen  but  could  not  save  them  ?  Shall 
we  ever  achieve  much  with  a  theodicy  like  that  ? 

A  bolder  speculative  theory  (under  the  influence  of 
Hegel 1),  according  to  which  sin  ranks  as  necessary,  is 
found  in  Richard  Rothe’s  Theological  Ethics .  It  might 
be  well  if  evolutionary  theologians  studied  such  handlings 
of  positions  very  similar  to  their  own.  On  the  one  hand, 
Rothe  treated  sin  as  a  necessary  stage  for  man  ;  on  the 
other  hand  as  imputable  to  him — it  was  his  own  guilt. 
Such  a  position  seems  to  land  us  very  near  indeed  to 
self-contradiction.  And  we  have  no  information  that 
would  warrant  us  in  declaring  that  human  development 
necessarily  passes  through  sin.  Rather  would  morality 
suggest  that  sin  is  evitable.  Rothe  further  complicates 
the  position  by  telling  us  that  the  normal  develop¬ 
ment  of  human  nature  is  seen  in  the  sinless  Jesus.  His 
theosophical  2  system  may  lend  itself  to  such  intricacies. 
No  one  is  likely  to  adopt  this  theosophy  who  desires  to 
treat  moral  things  morally  and  spiritual  things  spiritually. 

Dr.  Peake  has  expressed  sympathy  with  Dr.  Tennant’s 
work,  but  his  own  positions  are  reached  along  different 
lines.  He  is  an  expounder  of  St.  Paul’s  doctrine  of  the 
flesh,  which  he  seems  to  accept  as  signifying  that  in 
the  long  run  temptation  will  prove  too  much  for  any  weak 
human  soul.  This  painfully  resembles  a  suggestion  that 
sin  is  inevitable  to  finite  mind  as  such.  The  perplexities 
of  our  doctrine  are  serious  at  the  best ;  but  we  should 

1  And,  it  is  said,  of  Daub. 

2  Rothe  uses  the  term,  and  others  might  have  selected  it  as  characteristic. 


166  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

be  adding  needlessly  to  our  burdens  if  we  made  ourselves 
responsible  for  any  such  sweeping  affirmation. 

If  we  are  unable  to  accept  these  alleged  solutions,  we 
have  to  admit  the  presence  in  our  doctrine  of  an  element 
of  abiding  perplexity.  Still,  there  is  no  need  to  exaggerate. 
It  may  seem  scarcely  consonant  with  freedom  that  an 
element  of  guilt  should  be  found  in  every  human  life,  and 
that  this  guilt  should  imply  nothing  less  than  an  un¬ 
divided  share  in  the  guilt  of  the  whole  world.  On  the 
other  hand  we  do  not  affirm,  nor  do  we  believe,  that  any 
one  is  guilty  previously  to  the  exercise  of  personal  choice. 
A  guilty  infant  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  We  do  not 
believe  that  any  individual  act  of  sin  is  forced  by  circum¬ 
stances  or  by  heredity  upon  a  reluctant  will.  We  do  not 
doubt  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  every  will  to  make  the 
grand  choice,  habitually  and  predominantly,  of  good 
against  evil.  Such  a  choice  is  possible  to  all,  easy  to  none. 
If  there  is  an  imperious  moral  claim  on  one  side — the  claim 
of  freedom — there  is  an  unquestionable  moral  fact  on  the 
other  side  ;  the  fact  of  the  world’s  sin.  One  still  acts 
in  obedience  to  a  moral  motive,  in  declining  to  recognise 
any  soul  as  able  to  cut  loose  from  fellowship  with  mankind 
in  this  great  burden  and  bondage. 

It  has  been  proposed  to  treat  the  apparently  irrecon¬ 
cilable  pair  of  assertions  about  guilt  as  one  instance  of 
antinomy,  i.e.  of  a  kind  of  recognised  or  normal  abnor¬ 
mality  in  human  thought.  Let  us  examine  this. 

The  word  comes  to  us  from  Kant,  who  believes  that 
the  speculative  reason  falls  helplessly  into  antinomies. 
Of  the  four  which  he  names  in  that  connection,  one  has 
special  interest  for  us.  It  deals  with  the  opposing  asser¬ 
tions  of  the  universality  of  causation 1  and  of  the  freedom 
of  human  acts.  When  he  advances  to  the  practical 
reason,  Kant  attempts  to  solve  puzzles  which  are  insol- 
1  About  Kant’s  motives  for  this  we  have  spoken  above,  p.  119. 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


167 


uble  to  mere  speculation.  As  phenomena  our  acts, 
being  events  in  time,  are  and  must  be  wholly  determined. 
As  noumena  we  are  free. 

Recent  opinion  is  inclined  to  put  a  much  lower  value 
upon  uniform  mechanical  causation  than  Kant  or  the 
men  of  science  would  do.  We  are  told  by  Dr.  James 
Ward  that  laws  of  nature  are  mere  averages,  with  a  vary¬ 
ing  and  significant  psychical  content  behind  them  at  each 
point,  could  we  but  reach  to  this  reality.  This  amend¬ 
ment  to  the  older  doctrine  is  somewhat  drastic.  If  it 
were  possible  to  find  with  Mr.  M ‘Do wall,1  inspired  by 
Bergson,  gradual  emergence  of  non-determinism  in  a 
previously  determinate  universe,  as  we  rise  in  the  scale 
of  being  through  fife  to  thought — that  might  be  a  happier 
solution  than  any  bare  antinomy,  or  than  any  external 
dualistic  linking  together  of  necessity  and  freedom ;  or 
even  than  satisfying  the  postulate  of  freedom  by  reducing 
the  laws  of  nature  to  a  superficial  illusion. 

A  second  antinomy,  towards  which — under  that  name 
or  its  equivalent — theologians  have  often  inclined,  con¬ 
fronts  human  free  will  not  with  natural  law  but  with 
divine  predestination.  It  is  held  that  all  men’s  deeds 
are  self-caused,  and  yet  all  overruled  by  the  will  of  God. 
This  theory  too  is  out  of  favour  for  the  moment.  Philo¬ 
sophy  is  giving  us  a  reduced  God,  who  does  not  by  any 
means  order  the  whole  of  the  universe.2 

As  we  have  already  indicated,  the  characteristic  reli¬ 
gious  affirmation  declares  that  God  and  man  are  partners 
in  goodness  ;  both  of  them  free  ;  though  the  glory  belongs 
to  God  as  fountain  alike  of  goodness  and  of  being.  The 
relation  of  moral  evil  to  God  cannot  but  be  a  dark  problem. 
Believing  firmly  that  God  'permits  evil  things  which  He 
can  neither  initiate  by  His  own  act  nor  contemplate  save 

1  Evolution  and  the  Need  of  Atonement,  chap.  iii. 

2  Dr.  Ward  ( Realm  of  Ends,  p.  312)  quotes  from  Hamilton  [Reid,  p.  975) 
a  reference  to  ‘  antilogies  ’ — evidently  another  name  for  ‘  antinomies  ’ — and 
indicates  that  he  is  not  disposed  to  admit  the  existence  of  any  such  things. 


168 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


with  horror,  we  may  yet  continue  to  believe  that  even 
the  bad  man’s  life  is  worked  into  God’s  great  pattern. 
Wickedness  is  the  most  circuitous  and  infinitely  the  un- 
happiest  fashion  of  doing  service  to  God  ;  but  not  even 
the  wicked  can  evade  those  strong  hands  that  have  made 
and  fashioned  us  all.  We  do  not  affirm  this  antinomy, 
if  antinomy  it  is  to  be  called,  on  the  principles  of  a  philo¬ 
sophy  which  loves  to  find  seeming  contraries  true  to 
fact  in  order  that  it  may  establish  a  general  metaphysical 
theory.  We  affirm  it  because  of  our  faith — faith  in  con¬ 
science  and  faith  in  God.  The  God  in  whom  we  believe — 
God  of  the  Bible  and  of  Christ — must  be  not  less  great 
than  that.  All  things  are  possible  to  Him. 

A  third  antinomy,  within  the  doctrine  of  sin  itself,  might 
take  the  form  of  asserting  that  man  is  both  bond  and  free. 
In  a  sense  we  have  already  accepted  both  statements  ; 
but  it  seems  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  hold 
them  in  a  fashion  in  which  they  are  logically  compatible. 
What  affects  our  moral  life  so  closely  cannot  be  affirmed 
simply  in  a  mystery.  Or  the  proposed  hamartiological 
antinomy  may  be  reduced  with  Dr.  Tennant 1  to  universal 
guilt  and  individual  responsibility.  Muller  had  claimed 
that  such  an  antinomy  must  arise  if  we  would  not  accept 
his  theory  of  pre-temporal  probation  and  fall.  It  is  a 
question  of  language  whether  the  amount  of  perplexity 
to  which  we  have  confessed  is  or  is  not  to  be  dignified  wdth 
the  label  ‘  antinomy.’  The  expression  might  once  again 
suggest  a  general  philosophical  doctrine  of  semi-scepticism. 
But  once  again,  in  asserting  what  we  assert  and  believing 
as  we  believe,  we  are  not  guided  by  any  such  doctrine, 
but  by  moral  experiences  which  verify  themselves  to  the 
conscience.  If  there  is  a  measure  of  perplexity,  there  is 
also  light  to  walk  by.  We  believe  in  man  as  free,  and  in 
God  as  just,  strong,  and  good. 

1  Who  thinks  he  escapes  it  in  a  fashion  we  have  already  criticised.  For 
M  tiller's  conditional  antinomy,  see  Doctrine  of  Sin,  tr.  Urwick,  ii.  410. 


XIV.] 


SIN  AS  UNIVERSAL 


169 


Such  theology  is  no  doubt  *  a  poor  thing  ’  compared 
with  systems  which  drive  away  mystery  into  nooks  where 
it  lurks  unnoticed  ;  yet,  for  morally  earnest  men  and 
Christian  souls,  a  little  light  may  be  better  than  none. 
We  do  not  believe  in  a  God  who  ‘  sympathises  ’ 1  with 
sinners  in  the  sense  of  apologising  to  His  creatures  for 
the  faults  the  latter  have  committed.  Nor  do  we  believe 
in  a  God  who  is  a  theological  pedant,  seeing  only  the  evil, 
explaining  away  the  good.  He  loves  the  faintest  element 
of  goodness  visible  in  any  man.  He  created,  He  nourishes, 
He  leads  to  victory,  moral  effort  and  aspiration ;  He 
guards  them  against  being  shipwrecked  by  pride.  He  is 
grieved  at  heart  by  our  pitiable  weakness.  But  He  will 
not  gloss  over  the  reality  of  an  evil  so  heartless  and  profane 
as  sin.  Nor  will  He  ignore  the  threads,  invisible  yet 
strong,  which  link  our  respectable  peccadilloes  to  mon¬ 
strosities  of  vice  and  crime.  The  judgment  of  God  is 
according  to  truth  against  them  which  do  such  things . 

l  Pfleiderer,  quoted  by  Dr.  Orchard. 


170 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  XV 

*  DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN 

From  contemplating  sin  as  universal  we  now  turn  again  to 
study  it  as,  even  for  the  religious  consciousness,  graduated 
and  quantified  upon  different  systems.  Scripture  exhibits 
the  one  method  of  treatment  no  less  than  the  other. 

(1)  We  may  first  dwell  upon  the  contrast  between  sinful 
acts  and  sinful  habits.  This  contrast  is  broadened  by 
dogmatic  theology  until  it  sets  over  against  actions, 
which  conscience  primarily  estimates  and  condemns,  a 
sinful  or  depraved  nature  ;  until  indeed  it  teaches  that 
we  helplessly  inherit,  and  inherit  by  physical  descent  or 
its  equivalent,  a  character  diametrically  opposed  to  all 
that  is  good.  In  other  words,  habit  is  treated  as  heredi¬ 
tary,  and  hereditary  habit  is  held  to  involve  personal 
guilt.  Much  of  this  is  extravagant ;  though,  if  one 
tried  to  formulate  a  doctrine  in  detail,  one  might  find 
oneself  a  second  time  confronted  by  insoluble  or  almost 
insoluble  problems.  For  it  would  be  a  very  shallow 
and  atomistic  view  of  sin  which  ignored  the  tendency  of 
actions  to  pass  into  habits,  of  habits  to  assume  fixity  in 
the  character.  Amid  all  perplexities  we  must  hold  to 
our  clues,  that  the  racial  evil  we  come  to  share  is  accepted 
by  our  own  guilty  acts,  and  that  the  God  who  condemns 
it  offers  us  an  unfeigned  hope  of  escape,  if  we  will  have 
it.  Yet  we  must  also  hold  to  admissions  already  made. 
What  seeks  to  find  entrance  into  each  new  life,  always 
with  some  success  and  often  with  much,  is  an  organised 


XV.] 


DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN 


171 


system  of  compromise  with  sin,  if  not  of  deliberate  willing 
service  to  it. 

Arising  out  of  the  study  of  habitual  (or  original)  sin,  we 
have  the  problem  of  what  theologians  call,  a  potior i,  con¬ 
cupiscence — a  quasi-instinctive  movement  of  desire  towards 
evil  things  before  the  will  has  opportunity  to  speak. 
Following  out  their  doctrine  of  original  or  inherited  sin, 
the  early  Protestants  taught  that  concupiscence  was 
truly  sinful  and  involved  guilt.  Roman  Catholic  theo¬ 
logians  took  their  stand  adroitly  on  the  side  of  moral 
fairness.  While  they  emphasised  the  hereditary  guilt  of 
Adam’s  first  transgression,  they  held  that  in  the  transi¬ 
tion  from  innocence  to  sin  mankind  lost  supernatural 
gifts,  but  retained  human  nature  whole  and  undamaged. 
Concupiscence  was  inherently  human  and  was  not  guilty. 
We  can  only  decide  as  we  already  indicated.  Sin  before 
the  presence  of  will  is  not  sin  at  all ;  but  the  racial  sin  in 
which,  with  our  own  guilty  consent,  we  are  entangled 
carries  with  it  the  marks  of  many  separate  transgressions, 
including  transgressions  by  others.  Quasi-instinctive 
movements  of  desire  towards  evil  are  facilitated  and 
almost  compelled  by  past  wrongdoing.  In  the  adult 
such  movements  cannot  be  free  from  guilt. 

(2)  Next,  we  may  turn  to  distinctions  drawn  between 
different  degrees  of  sin. 

A  great  deal  of  Catholic  theology  has  been  built  up  on 
the  contrast  between  sins  wThich  are  mortal  and  others 
which  are  but  venial.  We  have  already  seen  that  the 
sacrificial  law  of  the  Old  Testament,  though  it  provided 
propitiatory  rites  for  certain  actions  plainly  involving 
moral  guilt,  held  out  no  hope  to  the  deliberate  or  obstinate 
wrongdoer.  We  have  also  seen  the  revival  of  this  view  in 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  and  its  application  to  the  sin  of 
apostasy  from  Christ,  the  one  great  sacrifice  ;  while  in  the 
New  Testament  generally,  apart  from  St.  Paul,  we  have 
observed  the  tendency  to  mark  off  sins  of  ignorance  as 


172 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


less  guilty  than  others  committed  with  a  high  hand.  A 
certain  dogmatic  hardening  takes  place  when  the  one  class 
of  sins  is  marked  as  mortal  and  the  other  as  venial. 

These  contrasted  terms  do  not  always  bear  a  fixed 
significance.  The  expression  ‘  mortal  ’  sin  plainly  goes 
back  to  a  passage  already  dealt  with — 1  John  v.  16.  There 
mortal  sin  seems  to  be  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  a  Chris¬ 
tian  brother’s  good  offices,  possibly  even  beyond  the  mercy 
of  God.  When  early  Christian  ‘  enthusiasm  ’  is  relegated 
to  heretical  bodies,  mortal  sin  comes  to  be  defined  by  the 
great  Church  as  sin  which  interrupts  fellowship  with  God, 
while  venial  sin  is  guilty  in  a  lesser  degree — marked  by 
heaven,  blamed  by  God,  but  not  involving  interruption 
of  friendly  relations  or  loss  of  the  divine  peace.  Protestant 
theology  knows  nothing  of  this  distinction  in  its  primitive 
enthusiastic  sense,  and  in  its  later  Catholic  form  rejects  it 
outright.  Every  sin  is  defined  as  mortal,  and  therefore 
as  hell-worthy.  We  have  already  indicated  how  we  must 
regard  the  Protestant  doctrine.  If  an  act  could  exist 
which  had  no  further  evil  tendencies  or  consequences, 
it  might  be  called  distinctively  ‘  venial.’  But  where  is 
such  an  act  to  be  found  in  the  moral  life  ?  Yet  Protestant 
and  Catholic  theologies  agree  that  some  sins  are  worse 
than  others  ;  also,  that  mortal  sin  itself  is  pardonable  by 
God  and  His  Church.  It  might  be  possible  to  build  upon 
these  premises  an  assertion  that  mortal  sin  in  an  eminent 
sense  occurs  for  the  first  time  by  deliberate  rejection  of 
the  grace  of  God. 

Another  contrast  between  lesser  and  graver  sins  con¬ 
trasts  the  sin  of  ignorance  with  sins  against  light.  We 
have  admitted  the  possibility  that  belief  in  guilty  ignorance 
is  inherited  from  pre-ethical  days,  when  guilt  was  inferred 
from  external  misfortunes  to  the  disregard  of  the  teach¬ 
ings  of  conscience.  But  we  cannot  refuse  to  see  in  the 
phrase  as  generally  used  a  serious  moral  thought.  Our 
Lord’s  words  on  the  Cross,  recorded  in  St.  Luke,  point  to 


XV.] 


DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN 


173 


ignorance  as  a  partial  alleviation  of  guilt.  We  have  also 
already  noted  1  how  portentous  an  emphasis  the  distinc¬ 
tion  receives  from  Ritschl.  He  gives  himself  into  the 
hands  of  his  enemies  when  he  coquettes  with  the  idea  that 
ignorance  causes  sin.  The  Old  Testament  law  as  we 
know 2  had  to  treat  ‘  ignorance  ’  as  almost  a  synonym 
for  ‘  weakness,’  when  tracing  back  sins  to  it.  Plainly, 
partial  ignorance  must  involve  a  lessening  of  guilt.  Plainly, 
absolute  ignorance  would  mean  absolute  non-imputa¬ 
tion.  Accordingly  the  phrase,  in  spite  of  its  high  Biblical 
authority,  needs  very  careful  handling  if  it  is  not  to  mis¬ 
lead  us.  We  must  recognise  all  sins  as  committed  against 
different  degrees  of  light.  The  distinction  ceases  to  be 
sharply  qualitative.  It  becomes  quantitative  and  gradual. 

Closely  akin  to  the  last  is  the  grouping  which  contrasts 
sins  of  weakness  with  wilful  and  deliberate  wrongdoing. 
Possibly,  though  not  certainly,  the  Priestly  Code  of  the 
Old  Testament  means  to  refer  to  infirmity  rather  than^ 
ignorance  as  the  exculpation  or  mitigation  of  venial  sins. 
The  writer  must  confess  that,  scanty  as  its  Biblical 
authority  may  be,  this  has  always  seemed  to  him  much 
the  most  hopeful  formula  for  contrasting  more  and  less 
in  wrongdoing.  It  embodies  an  unmistakably  real  dis¬ 
tinction.  Yet  even  in  this  form  the  distinction  when 
closely  regarded  is  seen  to  be  matter  of  degree,  and  moral 
continuity  is  made  plain.  There  is  no  guilt  apart  from 
the  will.  When  we  are  betrayed  into  acts  of  weakness, 
though  the  temptation  may  be  treacherous,  we  are  traitor¬ 
ous  in  yielding  to  it ;  and  if  we  are  honest  with  ourselves 
we  may  know  this.  At  the  other  extreme  weakness  may 
seem  to  be  lost  in  defiant  sin.  ‘  There  are  men,  and  truly 
they  are  not  a  few,  who  shamelessly  avow,  not  their 
interest,  but  their  mere  will  and  pleasure,  to  be  their  law 
of  life  ;  and  who,  in  open  defiance  of  everything  that  is 
reasonable,  will  go  on  in  a  course  of  vicious  extravagance, 

1  Chap.  xi.  p.  134.  2  Compare  chap.  iii.  p.  42. 


174 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


foreseeing,  with  no  remorse  and  little  fear,  that  it  will 
be  their  temporal  ruin  ;  and  some  of  them  under  the 
apprehension  of  the  consequences  of  wickedness  in  another 
state.’  Yet  perhaps  God,  who  is  ready  to  pardon,  dis¬ 
covers  even  there  a  burden  of  weakness  and  inward 
unhappiness. 

(3)  We  turn  next  to  consider  different  aspects  of  sin. 

An  important  traditional  distinction  contrasts  the  guilt 
and  power  of  sin.  We  might  base  this  distinction  upon  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  where  chapters  i-v  are  purely 
‘  forensic,’  and  chapters  vi-viii  ‘  physical.’  How  to  relate 
these  two  aspects  is  a  knotty  theological  problem.  Are 
they  simply  to  be  laid  side  by  side  ?  Is  one  (and  if  so, 
which  ?)  to  be  made  a  favourite  while  the  other  is  neglected  ? 
We  must  deal  with  these  aspects  of  sin  in  our  next  two 
chapters.1 

Sometimes  one  has  heard  an  attempt  made  to  recognise 
a  third  concurrent  aspect  in  sin — its  stain.  There  is  fair 
Biblical  authority  for  doing  so.  Defilement  is  first  a  magical 
or  superstitious  idea  ;  then  it  is  modified  by  standards  of 
personal  cleanliness  ;  then  the  idea  of  true  moral  purity 
is  introduced.  Finally  Christ  declares  that  the  only  real 
purity  is  moral,  and  the  only  defilement  sin.  If  guilt 
implies  offence  against  the  community,  or  in  the  last 
analysis  against  God,  defilement  is  self-degradation. 
Not  that  it  lacks  a  social  reference.  One  defiled,  cere¬ 
monially  or  morally,  is  one  degraded  in  his  own  eyes, 
but  also  one  from  whom  his  neighbours  would  shrink  if 
they  knew  his  condition.  Perhaps  we  might  say  that 
the  language  of  religion  here  anticipates  Kantian  ethics, 
which  mark  sin  as  an  offence  against  our  own  reason. 
We  are  once  more  on  the  frontier  between  a  ‘  mere  ’ 
morality  and  a  morality  which  is  religious.  The  premises 

1  Dr.  W.  E.  Orchard  simplifies  the  puzzle  of  sin  by  omitting  any  theory 
of  guilt.  That  is  destructive  moral  naturalism,  appropriately  if  too  gently 
censured  by  Professor  Wheeler  Robinson. 


XV.] 


DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN 


175 


for  a  doctrine  of  defilement  are  all  found  within  the  moral 
consciousness.  If  we  draw  the  inference — if  we  cry 
‘  Wretched  man  that  I  am  !  ’ — can  we  stop  there  ?  Must 
we  not  also  cry  ‘  Who  shall  deliver  me  ?  ’  ? 

Defilement  then,  in  its  purely  ethical  sense,  is  a  speci¬ 
ally  impressive  reinterpretation  of  what  is  meant  by  guilt, 
with  less  clearness  of  reference  to  a  judge  or  judges  out¬ 
side.  Of  the  power  or  bondage  of  sin  it  does  not  seem 
to  speak.  Present  cleanliness  of  behaviour  does  not 
remove  past  defilement.  On  the  other  hand,  past  defile¬ 
ment  does  not  seem  to  necessitate  repeated  self- defilement 
in  the  present.  Our  age  much  needs  to  grasp  the  thought 
of  defilement — the  truth  that  sin  is  disgusting. 

(4)  A  passage  in  the  Epistle  to  Titus  1  gives  a  threefold 
distinction  of  moral  and  religious  goodness.  Reading 
downwards  into  negative  values,  we  distinguish  three  cor¬ 
responding  sins.  Christians  must  live  ‘  soberly,’  i.e.  with 
self-control.  The  pagan  interpretation  of  that  ideal  may 
be  pitiably  external,  but  to  recognise  it  at  all  is  to  grasp 
a  truth.  Correspondingly,  there  are  sins  of  insobriety. 
To  speak  more  boldly  but  with  not  less  warrant,  sin  is 
insobriety.  If  we  call  sin  selfishness,  let  us  not  forget 
that  sin  is  self-destruction  too.  It  invites  anarchy  at 
the  centre  of  the  soul. 

Next,  Christians  must  live  righteously.  They  must 
not  fail  to  meet  their  neighbours’  just  claims.  To  fail 
to  do  so  is  to  commit  sins  of  injustice.  Again  speaking 
more  boldly,  but  with  equal  warrant,  we  may  say  that 
sin  is  radical  injustice.  The  modern  mind  inclines  to 
hold  that  the  Christian  maxim  of  love  is  lacking  here. 
But  there  need  be  no  inconsistency.  Love  fulfils  the  law, 
and  love  alone.  It,  and  it  only,  is  incapable  of  doing  harm. 
And  it  is  important  for  the  sentimental  modern  mind  to 
realise  that  we  are  pledged  to  definite  duties,  and  that 
capricious  indulgence  of  generous  preferences  will  not 

1  ii.  12. 


176 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


suffice.  Nor  again  is  it  left  to  the  taste  of  the  unfortunate 
to  ask  what  they  will,  and  call  their  demand  4  justice.’ 
We  are  all  under  law.  Sin  is  indeed  radically  unloving  ; 
but  because  unloving  it  becomes  unjust. 

Thirdly,  Christians  are  to  live  ‘  godly.’  The  charac¬ 
teristic  of  sinfulness  is  to  injure  God  ;  some  sins  explicitly 
defy  Him  ;  and  the  tendency  to  such  extreme  wickedness 
is  discoverable  in  all  wrongdoing. 

(5)  Last  of  all,  we  may  speak  of  three  forms  of  evil 
grouped  together  as  temptations  in  a  well-known  devo¬ 
tional  phrase — the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil. 

It  was  observed  above 1  that,  if  we  could  fathom  world¬ 
liness,  we  should  have  learned  a  great  deal  in  regard  to 
sin.  Worldliness  is  radically  irreligious.  It  ignores  God. 
It  is  not  consciously  and  directly  immoral ;  but  it  works 
with  crude  external  standards  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
cares  little  for  any  standard  at  all.  John  Foster  2  finds  a 
sign  of  human  depravity  in  the  surprise  we  feel  when  we 
learn  that  any  casual  stranger  is  a  godly  man.  The  logic 
of  the  remark  may  seem  doubtful ;  but  we  cannot  deny 
Foster’s  fact,  or  its  significance.  4  There  be  few  ’  who  find 
the  way  of  life.  Public  opinion  takes  its  colour  from  the 
easy-going  many,  not  from  the  unwelcomely  rigorous 
few  ;  and  worldliness,  as  we  know  it,  emerges.  When  it 
tries  to  be  moral  at  all,  its  faults  are  first,  convention¬ 
alism  ;  secondly,  a  shallow  and  external  convention. 

On  behalf  of  the  Voluntary  theory,  which  in  its  extreme 
form  desires  absolutely  to  sunder  the  state  from  religion, 
its  great  champion  Vinet  proposed  to  define  the  state 
as  4  humanity  minus  conscience,’  and  as  4  the  collective 
natural  man.’  These  are  startling  and  ugly  definitions 
for  the  state.  No  help  for  the  policy  of  separating  church 
and  state  can  be  expected  from  so  libellous  a  definition 
of  the  civil  community.  As  modern  interpreters  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  have  taught,  the  state 
1  Chapter  xiii.  pp.  149,  150.  2  I  believe. 


XV.] 


DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN 


177 


and  the  family  are  God’s  creation.  To  leave  conscience 
out  of  politics  would  be  impossible.  But  Yinet’s  definitions 
exactly  fit  that  strange  entity  which  religion  calls  4  the 
world.’  We  cannot  localise  the  world  in  any  external 
fellowship.  It  is  the  collective  bad  self.  It  is  a  spirit 
and  an  atmosphere.  Essentially  it  is  godless. 

Worldly  conventionality  may  be  found  in  any  quarter. 
There  is  an  ecclesiastical  worldliness.  It  appears  in  the 
church  as  often  as  living  Christian  goodness  dies  down ; 
according  to  F.  D.  Maurice  it  is  specially  characteristic  of 
what  is  called  the  4  religious  ’  press.  There  may  even  be 
a  convention  of  unconventionality.  Bohemianism  is  not 
morality ;  it  would  be  gross  flattery  to  call  the  Bohemian 
unworldly.  Speaking  from  a  slender  enough  acquaintance 
with  the  modern  theatre,  the  writer  would  be  inclined  to 
say  that  the  stage  is  tyrannised  over  by  the  conventions 
of  Bohemianism.  The  one  sin  it  knows  and  dreads  is 
respectability.  Those  who  break  with  the  narrowness 
of  the  respectable  world  become  forthwith  heroes,  almost 
saints,  perhaps  martyrs.  It  needs  no  great  acumen  to 
recognise  here  one  more  mask  for  the  protean  spirit  of 
worldliness.  This  stagy  ethic  rings  hollow.  It  differs 
from  the  cant  of  the  conventicle  and  from  the  noble 
sentiments  of  the  old  melodrama  ;  but  it  is  itself  a  cant 
of  anti-cant  and  a  convention  of  unconventionality. 

Worldliness  then  is  a  tone  of  mind.  It  puts  a  vulgar 
interpretation  upon  success  and  happiness.  It  goes  with 
the  majority  against  the  saints,  and  values  cheap  rewards 
while  scoffing  at  the  things  of  the  inner  life.  It  may  seem 
by  no  means  the  worst  of  wrongdoings ;  there  is  more 
besides  worldliness  in  racial  sin  ;  but  it  is  ubiquitous  in  a 
sinful  world,  and  its  narcotic  influences  are  capable  of 
destroying  all  that  is  good. 

4  The  flesh  ’  in  this  classification  refers  to  bodily  seduc¬ 
tions  exclusively,  i.e.  to  greed  and  to  lust.  If  we  like  to 
3ay  so,  it  is  the  brute  4  inheritance  ’  ;  but  any  animal 

M 


178 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


nature  called  to  rationality  and  moral  advance  must  find 
such  temptations  within  itself.  In  human  experience  the 
‘  world  ’  and  the  ‘  flesh  ’  multiply  each  other’s  powers  for 
evil.  There  is  no  sin  towards  which  the  worldly  conven¬ 
tion  is  more  tolerant  than  lust.  Again,  the  flesh  is  very 
specially  a  temptation  to  insobriety.1  Like  St.  Paul  we 
might  be  willing  to  obliterate  any  distinction  between 
wrorldliness  and  ‘  the  mind  of  the  flesh.’  Yet,  in  strict 
propriety,  and  in  the  devotional  phrase  we  are  now  study¬ 
ing,  worldliness  is  marked  out  by  the  negative  quality  of 
godlessness.  It  w^ould  be  a  very  shallow7  conception  of 
sin  that  was  satisfied  to  explain  it  by  the  urgency  of  animal 
conditions. 

Diabolic  temptations  as  well  may  be  included  in  St. 
Paul’s  ‘  flesh.’  And  one  trained  under  Calvinism  knows 
well  that  a  pronounced  doctrine  of  original  sin  leaves  little 
indeed  to  assign  to  a  tempting  spirit.  The  fountain  of 
bitterness  is  recognised  within  our  owm  hearts ;  as  Christ 
Himself  taught.  But  what  are  these  diabolical  tempta¬ 
tions  ?  It  is  possible  to  hold  that  they  proceed  from  actual 
evil  spirits  ;  yet  no  dogmatic  importance  belongs  to  this 
possibility.  We  can  watch  the  rise  of  the  doctrine  of 
Satan  in  the  Old  Testament.  Perhaps  it  is  borrowed 
from  abroad.  Perhaps  it  develops  from  germs  native 
to  the  religion  of  Israel.  Perhaps  it  is  a  mixture  of  the 
two.  In  any  case  the  faith  of  the  Old  Testament  existed 
before  there  was  belief  in  Satan,  and  the  faith  of  the  New 
Testament  will  remain  even  if  such  belief  vanishes.  Our 
Lord  seems  to  sanction  the  belief  ;  but  a  doctrine  of  God 
as  Father  on  the  one  side,  and  a  doctrine  of  sin  as  coming 
from  within  man  upon  the  other  side,  leave  no  distinc¬ 
tive  place  in  religious  thought  for  the  Enemy.  Even  if 
such  a  being  exists,  recognition  of  that  fact  belongs  to  a 
very  different  category  from  faith  in  God.  True  religious 
faith  does  not  barely  recognise  God’s  existence  ;  it  re- 

1  But  self-control  must  also  repress  cowardice. 


XV.] 


DIFFERENTIATIONS  OF  SIN 


179 


joices  in  Him,  and  trusts  in  Him  with  the  whole  heart. 
Belief  in  Satan  could  be  no  more  than  a  scientific  hypo¬ 
thesis. 

It  is  that  at  the  most ;  at  the  least  and  worst,  what  is 
it  ?  Perhaps  a  dark  superstition  ;  perhaps  a  metaphor 
wrongly  hardened  into  a  dogma.  Modem  psychology 
shows  us  depths  upon  depths  within  ourselves  which  we 
cannot  fathom.  There  are  hidden  aspirations  towards 
God  within  the  worst ;  there  are  sudden  movements — 
nay,  strong  rushes — towards  evil  within  the  best.  It 
would  be  Sadducean  to  deny  the  possible  existence  of 
spirit  tempters.  If  we  may  be,  and  are,  tempted  by 
embodied  spirits  stained  with  sin,  members  of  the  human 
race,  why  should  it  be  deemed  incredible  that  other 
spirits,  of  a  different  order,  may  be  suffered  by  God  and 
invited  by  thoughtless  sinners  to  tempt  and  try  the 
children  of  men  ? 

The  moral  psychology  of  a  spirit  of  evil  might  raise 
difficulties.  It  is  no  doubt  true,  as  modern  writers  repeat 
over  and  over,  that  man  seeks  evil  because  he  considers 
it  good.  Yes  ;  but  what  are  those  things  that  we  call 
good  ?  What  does  wilful  lust  call  a  good  thing  ?  The 
expense  of  spirit  in  a  waste  of  shame ,  with  heartless  destruc¬ 
tion  of  its  tools.  What  does  hatred  call  a  good  thing  ? 
What  possibilities  are  contained  in  the  fuller  development 
of  enmity  against  God  ?  When  we  consciously  yield  to 
sin,  a  process  begins  which  has  its  limit  in  a  spiritual  state 
incapable  of  repentance.  There  might  be  spirits  in  con¬ 
tact  with  us  by  whom  such  a  state  had  already  been  reached. 
No  man  can  prove  this  impossible. 

Again,  the  metaphysics  of  the  Prince  of  the  devils 
might  require  careful  scrutiny.  Such  a  being  could  not 
be  recognised  in  dualistic  fashion  as  an  anti-God — an 
omnipotent  or  almost  omnipotent  power  wedded  to  evil. 
At  most,  Satan  must  be  for  our  thoughts  analogous  to 
some  of  the  modern  minimising  constructions  of  deity — 


180 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


strong  but  not  omnipotent ;  primus  inter  pares  but  not 
isolated  ;  the  present 1  perhaps  rather  than  the  permanent 
head  of  the  forces  that  fight  against  God. 

At  the  same  time,  these  could  not  be  more  than  pos¬ 
sibilities,  and  they  are  devoid  of  true  religious  importance 
even  if  they  were  established  as  facts.  What  it  abidingly 
concerns  us  to  know  is  that  Satanic  impulses — pride, 
hatred,  other  wanton  forms  of  evil — find  an  attachment 
within  our  hearts.  These  things  attract  us ;  whatever 
their  source  (or  rather  their  occasion)  they  rise  up  from 
the  depths  of  our  being  and  look  us  in  the  face.  They  are 
our  self  indeed ;  but  what  a  self  !  Let  no  one  be  blinded 
by  the  would-be-scientific  pedantry  which  tells  us  that 
nothing  very  bad  can  overtake  us.  Rather  may  any¬ 
thing  and  everything  happen  ;  as  surely  as  if  ail  the  myriads 
of  unclean  spirits  which  mediaeval  fancy  pictured  were 
closing  round  us  and  bending  their  whole  forces  on  our 
destruction.  Rather  will  anything  and  everything  evil 
have  its  place,  stage  after  stage,  in  the  drama  of  our  ruin  ; 
unless  we  turn  from  self-trust  and  self-excuse  to  God, 
and  to  Him  in  whom  God  is  revealed  as  our  redeemer. 

Diabolical  sin,  then,  is  the  last  and  worst  stage  in  evil, 
amply  possible  psychologically  whether  or  not  there  is 
a  personal  president  of  the  kingdom  of  evil ;  the  natural 
outgrowth  and  fulfilment  of  the  potencies  of  everyday  sin. 

1  Compare  Rothe  once  more. 


XVI.] 


FORGIVENESS 


181 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  FORGIVENESS  OF  SINS 

We  have  for  several  chapters  been  contemplating  the 
unrelieved  darkness  of  sin,  as  it  tends  to  ripen  into  utter 
moral  death.  We  turn  now  to  the  hope  there  is  for  us 
in  God.  4  Iniquity  *  need  not  be  ‘  our  ruin.’  Many 
a  discussion  of  the  problem  of  sin  represents  its  darker 
issues  as  natural  and  almost  necessary,  while  salvation 
ranks  not  merely  as  supernatural  but  almost  as  abnormal. 
Yet  it  is  important  that  we  should  realise  how  often  in 
the  history  of  a  sinful  soul  opportunities  arise  for  the 
forces  of  healing  and  rescue.  Such  forces  certainly  belong 
to  a  higher  moral  plane  than  that  dismal  region  in  which 
sin  reigns  unto  death.  In  so  far,  they  may  well  be  called 
supernatural.  But  it  is  dogmatism  rather  than  true 
reverence  which  would  refuse  to  admit  that  the  nature 
God  has  given  us,  even  in  the  form  in  which  it  becomes 
ours  amid  a  tainted  society,  contains  the  possibilities  of 
recovery.  That  is  truth  ;  though  we  do  not  affirm  it  to 
be  the  whole  truth. 

First  of  all,  before  proceeding  to  speak  explicitly  of 
forgiveness,  we  must  briefly  discuss  the  nature  and  mean¬ 
ing  of  repentance.  We  have  seen  how  conspicuous  the 
call  to  repentance  is  in  Scripture — in  the  great  prophets 
of  the  Old  Testament,  in  the  Baptist,  m  our  Lord  Him¬ 
self  ;  although  the  term  retreats  behind  others  in  the  Pauline 
teaching,  and  is  significantly  absent  from  the  Johannine. 


182 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Human  souls  are  constituted  for  repentance.  It  has 
been  made  possible  that,  when  they  have  incurred  the 
stain  of  sin,  they  should  react  against  their  past  with  self- 
condemnation  and  the  purpose  of  a  better  future.  It  is 
not  Scripture,  nor  is  it  experience,  which  will  lead  us  to 
ignore  this  fact — a  fact  which  is  a  gospel  in  itself,  though 
lowrer  than  the  full  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God. 

If  we  are  to  speak  of  free  will  as  operating  among  sinful 
men,  here  is  where  it  best  showrs  itself.  To  be  free  is  to 
repent  and  to  repent  is  to  be  free.  While  there  is  hope 
of  repentance  there  is  a  chance  of  freedom  ;  though  we 
should  mislead  ourselves  if  we  joined  the  light-minded 
band  who  treat  the  bare  unanalysed  possibility  of  repent¬ 
ance  as  a  guarantee  that  all  must  go  well.  On  the  other 
hand,  those  philosophies  which  blot  out  free  will  are  found 
consistently  sneering  at  repentance.  According  to  Cotter 
Morison’s  violent  book,1  it  is  ‘a  waste  of  time.’  Accord¬ 
ing  to  the  gloomy  genius  of  Spinoza,  ‘  He  who  repents 
of  any  deed  he  has  done  is  twice  miserable  or  impotent.’  2 
He  ‘  first  suffers  himself  to  be  overcome  by  base  desire, 
and  is  next  subdued  by  sorrow.’  Nothing  could  be  more 
characteristic,  or  more  false.  Not  surely  a  waste  of 
time,  but  time  best  spent ;  time  which  by  God’s  mercy 
may  retrieve  the  most  lamentable  moral  waste  of  the 
past. 

Accordingly  this  sacred  thing  has  two  faces.  One 
looking  backward  is  full  of  sorrow,  but  one  looking  for¬ 
ward  of  hope.  When  the  writer  has  tried  to  expound 
Luke  xv  from  the  pulpit,  he  has  been  told  of  criticism  by 
an  aggressively  modernist  hearer 3  to  this  effect :  that 
the  preacher  insisted  upon  the  old-fashioned  view  of 
repentance  as  sorrow,  whereas  the  ‘  modern  *  view  treats 
it  as  reformation.  Why  oppose  the  two  ?  Why  cut  the 
pair  of  scissors  into  halves  under  the  pretence  that  it  will 

1  The  Service  of  Man.  2  Ethics ,  part  iv.,  proposition  liv. 

3  A  good  man  ;  since  fallen  asleep. 


XVI.] 


FORGIVENESS 


183 


do  better  work  ?  Surely  there  is  no  mystery  in  the  matter. 
If  we  intend  a  better  future,  we  cannot  but  lament  the 
bad  past.  If  we  truly  regret  the  past,  we  have  strong 
motives  for  doing  better  hereafter.  But,  if  we  tread  out 
the  spark  of  divine  sorrow  in  our  consciences,  what  can 
be  expected  but  that  the  future  wall  repeat  the  old  dreary 
history  in  ever  worse  forms  ? 

Something  similar  to  the  above  criticism  on  repentance, 
as  once  imperfectly  preached,  stands  printed  in  the  intro¬ 
duction  to  Horace  Bushnell’s  Forgiveness  and  Law.  Bush- 
nell  blames  M‘Leod  Campbell’s  emphasis  upon  4  equivalent 
sorrow  for  sin,’  because  it  seems  ‘  as  if  the  superstitious 
ideas  of  penance  had  disfigured  a  little  his  conception  of 
the  wholly  joyful  and  free  nature  of  repentance.’  I  do 
not  defend  everything  Campbell  has  written  on  the  point.1 
One  fears  that  Campbell  was  misled  into  thoughts  or  at 
least  phrases  of  quantitative  equivalence,  in  a  region 
where  such  reckoning  is  meaningless.  Yet  Bushnell’s 
statement  impresses  one  as  painfully  jaunty.  Repent¬ 
ance  is  not  repentance  if  he  dances  along  whistling  a  gay 
tune  and  asking  all  the  world  to  admire  him  for  a  fine 
fellow.  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit? 

It  is  true,  of  course,  that  we  are  not  to  work  up  a  ficti¬ 
tious  sorrow,  as  if  that  were  a  compensation  to  God  or 
conscience  for  our  sins.  No  answer  can  be  given  to  the 
question,  How  much  should  I  grieve  ?  or,  How  long  am 
I  to  be  in  heaviness  ?  Like  many  other  duties  ( e.g .  of 

1  Still  less  the  more  ecclesiastical  development  of  similar  thoughts  in 
Moberly’s  Atonement  and  Personality. 

2  I  may  take  this  opportunity  of  explaining  what  I  meant  in  1889  by 
calling  Bushnell’s  construction  of  the  Atonement  parum  ad  rem ;  a  phrase 
for  which,  when  a  young  and  struggling  man,  I  was  soundly  scolded  by  the 
late  Dr.  A.  B.  Bruce  in  the  Theological.  I  thought  Bushnell  had  discredited 
himself  by  the  number  of  essays  on  divergent  lines  which  he  printed  (like 
Mr.  J oseph  Chamberlain’s  successive  projects  for  minimal  Home  Rule),  each,  as 
the  railway  companies  say,  ‘  cancelling  all  previous  bills.’  More  particularly 
I  thought  his  Threefold  Doctrine  of  Christ  concerning  Himself,  chap,  iv 
in  Forgiveness  and  Law,  an  excellent  Christian  sermon,  but  not  really 
relevant  to  a  doctrine  of  atonement.  And  that  judgment  I  can  only 
reaffirm. 


184 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


‘  sobriety  ’),  the  duty  of  repentance  evades  quantitative 
determination,  above  all  by  an  outsider.  Yet  in  every 
such  case  obligation  stands.  And  those  who  are  in  a 
hurry  to  forgive  themselves,  and  who  find  the  valley  of 
humiliation  unendurable,  have  reason  to  fear  that  they 
are  hurrying  away  from  God. 

Repentance,  then,  does  great  things  for  sinful  men. 
If  you  like,  it  is  a  standing  miracle.  But  can  the  repent¬ 
ance  we  have  thus  described  come  to  the  birth  without 
further  conditions  ?  Can  it  arise  within  the  limits  of  a 
single  personality  ?  To  say  the  least,  it  is  incomparably 
more  likely  to  arise  with  help  from  outside.  First,  there 
is  the  child’s  repentance,  when  the  righteousness  and 
grieved  love  of  a  parent,  or  of  some  other  occupying  a 
parent’s  place  and  doing  a  parent’s  part,  lead  the  little 
one  out  from  the  power  of  its  waywardness  into  healing 
sorrow.  Next,  there  may  be  the  neighbour  whom 
we  personally  have  wronged.  Our  duty  is  to  make  con¬ 
fession  to  him.  It  is  his  part  to  forgive.  And  in  giving 
that  assurance  he  approximately  represents  God  Him¬ 
self,  and  may  be  divinely  helpful  to  us.  Nay,  even  if  he 
proves  bitter  and  narrow,  the  duty  of  confession  must 
still  be  discharged  with  all  meekness  by  one  ‘  buffeted  for 
his  faults.’  If  the  other  is  throwing  away  his  opportunity, 
we,  his  moral  inferiors  in  the  past,  must  not  be  guilty  of  a 
new  folly.  Confession  under  such  circumstances  will  be 
doubly  painful,  yet  it  may  be  a  healing  sacrament.  Once 
again,  there  may  be  ‘  those  who  are  spiritual,’  who  c  save 
a  soul  from  death  ’  by  bringing  it  to  repentance.  Or, 
better  still,  we  may  discover  God  as  imperfectly  but  really 
represented  in  these  various  media.  Supremest  of  all, 
it  may  be  our  happiness  and  eternal  life  to  know  God 
perfectly  represented  to  us  in  the  Lord  Jesus. 

Thus  the  study  of  repentance  almost  of  itself  forces 
us  to  study  forgiveness.  In  this  there  are  at  least  two 
moral  personalities  ;  one  as  wrongdoer,  one  as  healer. 


XVI.] 


FORGIVENESS 


185 


Forgiveness  is  traditionally  interpreted  as  remission  of 
penalties.  In  that  interpretation  we  recognise  the 
legalist  assumptions.  When  Claus  Harms  included 
among  his  modern  theses  the  striking  warning,  ‘  Con¬ 
science  cannot  forgive  a  single  sin,’  he  too,  perhaps,  forgot 
or  ignored  repentance.  We  have  granted  that  repentance 
may  scarcely  be  possible  without  help  from  some  one 
outside  us,  some  one  temporarily  or  permanently  above 
us  ;  yet,  when  it  comes  to  pass,  we  know  in  our  con¬ 
sciences  that  peace  is  possible,  and  forgiveness  no  mirage 
but  a  sure  word  from  God. 

To  define  forgiveness  in  terms  of  law  is  to  identify  it 
with  pardon,  i.e.  with  the  remission  of  external  penalties.1 
Under  English  law,  when  it  is  found  that  by  a  miscarriage 
of  justice  an  innocent  man  has  been  imprisoned,  the  only 
constitutional  way  of  releasing  him  is  to  pardon  him. 
The  sentence  which  was  legally  binding  becomes  legally 
void.  It  would  now  be  criminal  to  detain  him.  But, 
whatever  analogy  there  may  be  between  forgiveness  and 
such  a  pardon,  the  differences  are  surely  great.  In¬ 
herently,  forgiveness  is  a  matter  of  personal  relationship. 
To  forgive  any  one  is  to  restore  him  to  his  place  in  our 
confidence.  One  says  in  effect,  ‘  It  shall  be,  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  as  if  the  fault  had  never  been  committed 
at  all.’  When  God  says  that  to  us,  how  great  a  thing 
He  says  !  We  also  must  say  nothing  less  when,  perhaps 
after  punishing,  we  forgive  a  child,  or  when  we  forgive 
any  other  penitent  wrongdoer. 

Accordingly  we  weaken  the  thought  of  forgiveness  if 
we  make  it  merely  an  amicable  disposition  towards  the 
wrongdoer.  Of  course  we  are  always  bound  in  duty  to 
possess  a  forgiving  heart.  And  what  is  our  duty  here  is 
also  inevitably  our  privilege.  No  longer  shall  we  eat 
our  hearts  away  in  spitefulness.  We  must  not,  because 

1  There  must  have  been  sentence,  I  take  it,  belore  pardon  is  thinkable. 
To  drop  a  prosecution  is  not  to  pardon. 


186 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


of  any  personal  wrongs,  wish  that  the  offender  may  experi¬ 
ence  evil,  but  rather  the  highest  moral  good.  Still,  the 
act  of  forgiveness  is  something  beyond  a  general  temper 
of  forgivingness.  It  is  not  possible  apart  from  moral  con¬ 
ditions.  I  cannot  readmit  to  intimacy  the  false  or  foolish 
friend  who  betrayed  my  confidence  unless  I  have  good 
reason  to  hope  that  he  has  learned  a  lesson.  Certainty 
of  course  is  impossible,  and  it  would  be  wicked  pedantry 
to  require  it ;  but  there  must  be  hope.  Not  arbitrarily 
but  by  moral  necessity  forgiveness  implies  repentance; 
else  it  would  sink  into  wreak  indulgence  or  guilty  conni¬ 
vance.  Whatever  we  do,  we  must  not  tempt  the  wrong¬ 
doer  to  repeat  his  fault.  True  forgiveness  is  a  higher 
thing  than  that.  When  it  arises  out  of  moral  circum¬ 
stance  without  and  moral  struggle  within,  it  is  one  of 
God’s  saving  ministries. 

Morbidly  cautious  theologians  may  of  course  question 
whether  it  is  safe  to  explain  divine  forgiveness  along 
these  human  lines.  Can  the  moral  Governor  of  the  Universe 
blot  out  the  past  ?  We  need  not  affirm  that  there  are 
no  differences  between  God’s  forgiveness  and  ours,  though 
it  would  need  great  care  to  define  where  the  difference  lies. 
But,  if  there  is  difference,  there  is  resemblance  too.  And 
the  teaching  of  Christ  a  hundred  times  over  encourages 
us  to  trust  the  resemblance  and  waive  the  difference. 
It  is  not  Christ  who  will  ever  tell  us  that  forgiveness  is 
impossible  in  God’s  world  except  by  some  moral  artifice 
or  prodigy.  We  do  not  come  to  God’s  forgiveness  as  to 
a  strange  thing.  We  climb  up  to  the  interpretation  of  its 
meaning  by  human  experience  of  what  it  is  to  forgive  and  to 
be  forgiven.  Beyond  using  the  great  name  Father,  with  all 
that  it  implies  concerning  God,  Jesus  says  little  or  nothing 
about  fatherly  forgiveness;  but  all  the  more  about  brotherly. 

The  pre-requisite  to  forgiveness  is  confession  (Ps.  xxxii. 
5;  1  Jn.  i.  9).  As  Campbell  warns  us,  no  dogmatic  supple¬ 
ment  must  be  brought  in  from  the  theology  of  Atonement 


XVI.] 


FORGIVENESS 


187 


to  disturb  the  symmetrical  perfection  of  an  appeal  to 
God’s  loving-kindness.  The  thought  is  self- complete.  It  is 
impossible  to  forgive  without  repentance  ;  it  is  morally 
impossible  not  to  forgive  when  sincere  confession  is  made.1 
On  the  other  hand,  confession  is  all.  It  is  not  that  we 
need,  but  that  we  can  do  no  more.  The  man  who  tries 
to  strike  a  balance  between  his  good  and  his  evil  deeds, 
and  to  establish  a  majority  on  the  right  side,  is  a  stranger 
to  himself  and  to  God.2 

Of  course  repentance  will  make  amends  so  far  as  it 
can.  But  the  opportunity  may  not  be  allowed  it.  It 
is  a  rare  happiness  to  be  permitted  such  a  privilege  ;  and 
even  then  the  wrong  is  not  effaced.  Perhaps  we  do  not 
truly  know  what  repentance  means,  about  which  some 
talk  so  glibly,  till  we  share  the  punishment  of  Esau,  who 
‘  found  no  place  of  repentance,’  his  action  being  beyond 
recall.  But  God  be  thanked  that  when  our  evil  acts 
are  visibly  and  notoriously  what  all  evil  is  in  essence, 
irremediable — God  be  thanked  that  even  then  forgive¬ 
ness  remains  with  Him.  Amid  appalling  mysteries,  that 
is  certain ;  or  the  gospel  mocks  us.  There  is  mercy  for 
the  seducer.  There  is  mercy  for  the  murderer.  In  one 
word  which  says  everything,  there  is  mercy  for  the  sinner.3 

1  It  would  be  false  logic  to  say  that  the  repentant  man  who  confesses  his 
fault  has  the  right  to  be  forgiven.  Even  on  earth,  while  it  is  my  duty  to 
forgive  a  repentant  brother,  it  would  be  sophistical  to  say  that  he  as  an 
individual  can  claim  forgiveness  by  right. 

2  Such  passages  as  Prov.  xvi.  6  and  Dan.  iv.  27  cannot  be  given  dogmatic 
authority  by  Christians. 

The  writer  can  remember,  as  a  child,  puzzling  over  Bulwer  Lytton’s 
teaching  about  making  amends,  in  The  (Jaxtons  ;  vaguely  feeling  that  some¬ 
thing  was  wrong,  but  of  course  not  consulting  a  senior.  Perplexed  children 
will  scarcely  be  found  doing  the  latter  ;  certainly  not  the  children  of  an  age 
of  repression. 

3  The  great  Pauline  epistles  speak  of  justification.  Those  of  the 
Captivity  fall  into  line  with  general  usage  in  speaking  of  forgiveness.  It  is 
right  to  observe  these  differences,  even  if  we  do  not  draw  the  inferences  of 
the  radical  critics. 

In  sense,  there  is  probably  no  difference  at  all.  Nothing  can  be  hollower 
than  the  contrast  school-Protestantism  draws  between  negative  ‘forgiveness ’ 
and  positive  ‘acceptance.’  They  are  inseparable  ;  very  plainly  indeed  so,  tor 
St.  Paul. 


188 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


We  might  suggest  then,  as  the  true  relation  between 
repentance  and  forgiveness,  that  they  are  the  same 
spiritual  process  viewed  from  different  directions  ;  much 
like  the  inside  and  outside  of  a  single  curve.  It  is  possible 
to  treat  repentance  (say  rather,  confession)  as  the  con¬ 
dition  of  forgiveness.  Again,  it  is  possible  to  contend 
that  forgiveness  must  be  experienced  before  we  repent. 
But  the  full  truth  differs  from  either.  Repentance  implies 
forgiveness  as  its  correlate.  Sometimes  the  correlate  is 
lacking  in  man.  All  the  more  certainly  shall  we  find  it 
in  God. 

There  is  one  thing  still  to  note  about  forgiveness, 
under  that  name.  It  will  not  do  to  assume  with  vulgar 
legalism  that  sin  is  an  isolated  interruption  of  generally 
good  relations  with  heaven,  calling  only  for  particular  acts 
of  repentance,  and  needing  no  more  than  certain  limited 
assurances  of  forgiveness.  What  the  prophets  worked 
out  regarding  pervasive  sin  and  repentance  is  reaffirmed 
by  Christ  and  the  apostles.  There  is  the  mark  of  sin 
everywhere.  Our  whole  life  must  be  a  repentance — with 
all  of  solemnity  that  belongs  to  that  experience,  but  also 
with  all  its  twice-born  hope.  Vital  religion  began  for  us 
in  the  forgiving  mercy  of  God.  It  can  end  nowhere  else. 

We  have  not  yet  exhausted  the  merest  rudiments  of 
the  subject  of  forgiveness,  so  long  as  we  have  not  made 
some  reference  of  a  positive  kind  to  the  doctrine  of  Atone¬ 
ment.  In  a  short  treatise  on  sin  it  would  be  useless  to 
try  to  say  much  on  the  great  theme.  But  it  might  be 
still  more  improper  to  maintain  unbroken  silence. 

Old  Testament  prophets  thought  but  little  of  sin-offer¬ 
ings.  They  speak  much  of  hope  in  God  even  for  sinful 
Israel,  but  never  point  the  penitent  to  animal  sacrifices. 
Nor  do  the  psalms  of  repentance  think  of  any  such  helps. 
There  is  a  partial  or  seeming  exception  to  this  silence  of  the 
Old  Testament  when  the  Deutero-Isaiah,  or,  as  some  would 


XVI.] 


FORGIVENESS 


189 


hold,  the  earlier  singer  whose  work  he  incorporates,  speaks 
of  a  great  sufferer  making  his  soul  a  guilt-offering.  That 
sacrifice  is  spiritual.  We  hear  or  half  hear  of  it  once, 
and  once  only. 

What  the  Old  Testament  could  not  discover,  the  New 
Testament  claims  to  have  found  as  a  fact.  There  had 
appeared  among  men  One  who  offered  what  His  followers 
recognised  as  a  real  sacrifice,  really  availing  to  cleanse 
the  conscience.  The  men  of  the  New  Testament  were  as 
fully  aware  as  Old  Testament  prophets  had  been  that 
ritual  was  irrelevant  to  our  deeper  needs.  A  better  sacrifice, 
not  less  spiritual  than  the  word  of  forgiveness  itself,  had 
been  offered  in  the  life,  and  still  more  the  death,  of  Jesus 
Christ.  This  sacrifice  resembles  the  Covenant  Sacrifice 

t 

of  Exodus  xxV  in  that  it  initiates  a  new  and  permanent 
relation  to  God.  It  resembles  the  sin-offerings  of  the 
law  in  that  it  is  presented  and  accepted  on  behalf  of  those 
who,  to  their  own  consciousness  and  to  the  consciousness 
of  God  and  the  Redeemer,  are  guilty.  Hence  it  initiates 
that  most  golden  of  golden  ages,  in  which  God  remembers 
sin  no  more. 

The  work  of  Christ  is  described  as  a  sacrifice ;  but  what 

is  the  permanent  significance  of  that  description  to  us  ? 

Much  is  covered  bv  the  fact  that  we  receive  from  Christ 

%/ 

the  assurance  of  forgiveness.  If  we  have  a  living  sense 
of  the  truth  that  sin  is  sinful  and  that  redemption  is 
wonderful,  and  if  we  trust  ourselves  to  the  promises  of 
Christ,  it  may  be  that  we  are  laying  hold  of  the  deepest  and 
most  central  truths  in  the  Christian  atonement.  While 
forgiveness  is  not  indeed  the  whole  of  the  Gospel,  it  is 
a  point  of  view  complete  in  itself  ;  and  those  who  speak 
of  ‘  mere  forgiveness  ’  might  almost  as  well  say  ‘  only 
God.’  Some  would  seem  to  think  that  God  resembles  a 
physical  force  working  uniformly.  The  friendship  of  such 
a  being  could  not  be  forfeited — nor  yet  really  enjoyed. 
There  is  no  place  in  such  modes  of  thought  for  forgive- 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


190 


[CH. 


ness  or  for  atonement.  Is  there  really  any  place  in  them 
for  God  ?  Are  such  ways  of  thinking  Christian  ? 

Difficult  as  the  thought  of  Christ’s  sacrifice  may  be  to 
modem  minds,  they  find  even  greater  difficulty  in  con¬ 
fessing  that  Christ  is  a  propitiation  with  God.  Certainly 
we  must  never  speak  as  if  Jesus  overbore  reluctance  in 
that  Father  who  Himself  sent  the  Son  to  be  the  Saviour 
of  the  world.  That  God  is  propitious  in  Christ  means 
that  the  world’s  sin  is  a  unity;  that  there  is  a  differ¬ 
ence  in  God’s  sight  between  sin  and  righteousness ;  and 
again  between  sin  confessed  and  forsaken  on  one  side, 
and  deliberate  wrong-doing  on  the  other. 

According  to  Ritschl,  Christ  is  the  great  Head  of  the 
community  of  the  saved,  but  not  truly  a  propitiation. 
His  mercy  avails  for  little  sins  which  hardly  need  an  atone¬ 
ment,  but  obdurate  sins  are  beyond  hope.  Surely  this  is 
the  most  dreary  of  all  gospels  that  ever  theology  invented. 
Against  it  one  would  wish  to  appeal  like  St.  Paul  to 
a  moral  postulate.  Perhaps  our  postulate  is  nowhere 
found  in  his  writings  ;  nor  can  an  obscure  modern  claim 
the  authority  of  an  apostle — and  such  an  apostle  !  But,  if 
we  have  found  a  genuine  moral  and  spiritual  postulate,  it 
needs  no  confirmation.  We  postulate  then  that  Atonement 
covers  the  greatest  possible  sins.  Against  the  language — 
hardly  against  the  thought — of  M‘Leod  Campbell  himself, 
one  might  use  his  own  quotation  from  Luther  :  ‘  Leam 
here  of  Paul  to  believe  that  Christ  was  given  not  for 
feigned  or  counterfeit  sins,  nor  yet  for  small  sins,  but 
for  great  and  large  sins  ;  not  for  one  or  two,  but  for  all ; 
not  for  vanquished  sins  (for  no  man,  no,  nor  angel,  is  able 
to  subdue  the  least  sin  that  is)  but  for  invincible  sins.’ 
Whatever  contributions  Ritschl  has  made  elsewhere  to 
theology — and  they  are  great ;  whatever  value  should 
be  attached  to  his  favourite  distinction  between  sins  of 
ignorance  and  obdurate  or  wilful  sin  ;  he  is  utterly  wrong 
in  calling  this  distinction  ‘  so  important  for  the  doctrine  of 


XVI.] 


FORGIVENESS 


191 


atonement.’  1  In  that  region  its  value  is  precisely  zero. 
There  is  no  appeal  to  God  in  the  light  of  the  smallness 
of  our  sins.  4  Pardon  mine  iniquity,  for  it  is  great .’ 

Surely  we  can  see  that  it  is  morally  unthinkable  the 
sinner  should  atone  for  himself.2  It  is  true,  according 
to  conscience  and  according  to  Scripture,  that  men  can 
choose  life  rather  than  death.  It  is  true  that  God  will 
judge  every  soul  according  to  his  works.  But,  if  we  take 
cognisance  of  sin  at  all  as  sin  against  God,  no  hope  is  left 
for  us  except  in  God’s  mercy.  Repentance,  not  innocence  ; 
confession,  not  expiation  by  deeds  or  sufferings  of  our 
own — there  must  our  hope  lie. 

We  have  seen  the  remedial  forces  at  work  within  a  single 
consciousness,  where  they  appear  as  repentance.  We  have 
seen  them  more  fully  elucidated  and  interpreted  when 
there  are  two  consciousnesses  and  personalities  before  us — 
the  offender  who  is  forgiven  ;  the  other,  human  or  divine, 
who  forgives.  Consistently  with  these  basal  truths,  the 
Christian  gospel  adds  a  further  interpretation.  It  tells 
us  that  a  third  personality  has  graciously  entered  into 
the  fellowship  of  our  evil  state.  We  are  no  longer  alone  with 
our  sorrow,  nor  even  alone  with  our  sorrow  and  our  God, 
when  the  blood  of  Jesus  his  Son  cleanses  us  from  all  sin . 

1  Rechtf ertigung  und  Versohnuny,  ii.  p.  243,  note. 

2  Hence  there  is  immorality  and  irreligion  even  in  the  attenuated  forms 
in  which  Catholic  theology  recognises  penances  and  the  like. 


192 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 

Two  distinct  problems  arise  for  any  soteriology :  how 
does  redemption  deal  with  the  ‘  guilt 5  and  how  with  the 
‘  power  ’  of  sin  ?  The  orthodox  Protestant  tradition 
loves  to  name  the  two  problems  that  of  ‘  justification  ’ 
and  that  of  ‘  sanctification  ’  1  respectively.  It  insists 
that  the  two  must  be  kept  separate.  Its  motive  is  good. 
It  fears  lest  the  miracle  of  a  sinner’s  peace  with  God  be 
lost  if  his  standing  in  grace  be  made  to  depend  in  any 
degree  upon  his  own  performance.  The  favourite  apostle 
of  Protestantism  is  thought  to  set  an  example  of  this  sys¬ 
tem  of  water-tight  compartments ;  and  again,  of  placing 
justification  foremost.  But  surely,  if  it  is  necessary  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  different  aspects  of  truth,  it  is  also  necessary  to 
relate  them  to  each  other.  Even  in  St.  Paul  one  doubts 
whether  the  isolation  of  successive  trains  of  thought  is 
quite  satisfactory ;  under  popular  Protestantism  the 
procedure  constantly  threatens  to  involve  the  sacrifice 
of  morality. 

Others  describe  the  contrasted  doctrines  as  dealing  with 
Reconciliation  and  with  Redemption.  Schleiermacher 
makes  redemption  central — deliverance  from  the  actual 
reign  of  evil — and  implies  that  it  carries  reconciliation 
with  it.  Ritschl  inverts  this  view.  He  makes  recon- 

1  In  the  Bible  to  sanctify  means  to  consecrate.  It  is  therefore  almost  a 
synonym  for  to  justify.  Yet  theologians  down  to  Schleiermacher  (inclusive) 
use  sanctification  for  renewal.  We  must  not  make  too  much  of  such 
linguistic  points  ;  but  we  cannot  ignore  them. 


XVII.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


193 

ciliation  primary,  as  conveying  the  religious  blessing  of 
peace  with  God.  In  this  way  he  reaches  his  character¬ 
istic  version  of  reduced  or  modified  Paulinism.  Here 
Schleiermacher’s  thinking  appears  the  more  modernist, 
Ritschl’s — with  the  qualification  named — the  more  evan¬ 
gelical.  M‘Leod  Campbell  reveals  an  emphasis  like 
Schleiermacher’s  on  what  he  calls  the  '  prospective  ’ 
aspect  of  Atonement,  if  we  are  right  in  identifying  that 
aspect  with  eternal  life  as  a  present  moral  possession,  and 
the  latter  again  with  renewal.  Yet  Campbell  insists  upon 
having  a  place  for  the  c  retrospective.’  He  believes  pro 
foundly  in  the  guilt  of  sin. 

At  the  present  day  most  minds  are  of  the  modern  type. 
If  one  can  believe  in  God  at  all,  one  finds  oneself  in  posses¬ 
sion  of  a  God  who  forgives.  It  may  truly  be  a  fearful 
thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  living  God  ;  but  the  vision 
which  haunts  us  in  our  darker  hours  is  something  still 
more  appalling — not  a  vision  of  angry  divine  hands,  but 
of  a  dreary  void  with  no  hand  in  it  either  to  punish  or 
to  help.  We  need  not  boast  of  our  turn  of  mind.  In 
some  ways  it  may  be  better  than  our  fathers’  psychological 
climate  ;  in  other  respects  it  is  no  doubt  worse.  But 
it  is  a  fact  which  we  cannot  ignore  or  evade,  though  it 
need  not  blind  us  to  higher  truths.  We  may  learn  how 
great  a  thing  God’s  forgiveness  is,  how  great  a  thing  Christ’s 
sacrifice.  At  the  same  time  we  must  go  to  our  neighbours, 
telling  them  that  the  gospel  is  not  one-sidedly  confined 
to  confirming  thoughts  of  pardon  or  to  relieving  fears  of 
punishment.  The  gospel  includes  a  message  of  renewal 
and  a  proclamation  of  the  conquest  of  sin.1  The  modern 
mind,  unless  it  be  intoxicated  and  maddened  with  its 
modernism,  has  its  own  special  appeal  from  Jesus  Christ 
of  Nazareth. 

The  traditional  theory  in  Protestant  theology  tells  us 

1  This  phrabe,  however,  is  not  biblical. 

N 


194 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


that,  when  law  has  been  satisfied  by  the  substitutionary 
penalties  endured  by  Christ,  Divine  omnipotence  can  flow 
forth  again  to  make  the  redeemed  ‘  holy.’  Or,  to  much 
the  same  effect,  we  are  told  that  specific  acts  of  energy  pro¬ 
ceeding  through  the  Holy  Spirit  from  the  glorified  Christ  con¬ 
stitute  the  difference  between  sinfulness  and  graciousness. 
There  is  more  perhaps  of  novelty  in  the  appeal  to  Christ’s 
merit  as  distinct  from  His  substitutionary  sufferings.  His 
merit  is  thought  to  guarantee  that  henceforth  Divine 
omnipotence  not  only  may  but  must  fulfil  its  healing  task. 
Yet  probably  this  seeming  improvement  in  the  scheme 
suffers  from  incoherence.  Traditional  theology  thinks  in 
terms  of  law  ;  but  law  and  merit  have  nothing  to  say  to 
each  other.  Again,  theology  is  interested  in  showing  that 
Christ,  and  the  supreme  manifestation  of  His  grace  in 
His  death,  were  necessary  to  human  redemption.  But 
could  it  be  necessary  that  Christ  should  merit  redemption 
for  us  ?  Such  a  position  would  seem  to  imply  that  God 
had  no  personal  goodwill  for  the  race  until  the  Son  extorted 
it  from  Him. 

Let  us  ask,  then,  whether  the  simple  appeal  to  Divine 
omnipotence  is  a  sufficient  Christian  doctrine  of  renewal. 
Is  it  not  the  case  that  all  positive  knowledge  of  God  deals 
with  other  attributes  ?  We  confess  His  boundless  power  ; 
but  our  faith  thinks  of  His  power  and  grace  as  working 
according  to  a  revealed  rule  and  travelling  along  pre¬ 
determined  channels.  Theology  could  have  no  existence 
unless  this  were  true.  Omnipotence  settles  everything  at 
a  stroke :  *  Allah  is  great !  ’  But  to  settle  everything  is 
equivalent  to  settling  nothing. 

The  theology  of  law  introduces  a  modification  by  recog¬ 
nising  certain  limits  which  omnipotence  must  not  trans¬ 
gress.  God  must  not  (apart,  it  is  argued,  from  some 
equivalent)  justify  the  guilty.  Do  we  not  say  well  that 
the  theology  of  law  knows  only  punishment,  not  merit  ? 
Is  it  not  further  true  that  a  genuinely  Christian  theology 


XVII.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


195 


must  do  more  than  define  limits  for  the  divine  working  ? 
Must  it  not  ascertain  the  divinely  revealed  rules  and  methods 
by  which  the  grace  of  God  determines  itself  1  for  its  own 
high  ends,  if  God  is  to  be  not  merely  the  omnipotent 
one,  but  the  good,  the  just,  the  gracious  one  ? 

If,  while  finding  a  ‘  need  be 5  for  Christ’s  sacrifice  in 
order  to  procure  forgiveness,  we  account  for  salvation  in 
the  region  of  character  by  God’s  mere  power,  then  we 
throw  the  saving  moral  energies  of  Christ  into  what  theo¬ 
logical  tradition  calls  His  ‘  office  ’  as  ‘  King.’  He  releases 
spiritual  power  when  He  will,  and  there  is  none  to  resist. 
This  would  be  a  revival  of  Calvinism  or  hyper-Calvinism. 
Freedom  and  responsibility  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  salvation  in  the  region  of  human  character. 

In  spite  of  the  neglect  of  this  section  of  doctrine,  and 
in  spite  of  the  Augustinian  tradition,  there  have  naturally 
been  attempts  to  supplement  such  trains  of  thought  with 
others  more  definite  and  more  Christian.  Rationalism 
dwells  on  the  revelations  made  by  Christ,  and  on  His  moral 
appeals.  This  makes  the  ‘  prophetic  office  ’  of  Christ 
central  for  the  conquest  of  sin.  Kingly  omnipotence 
falls  out  of  sight.  We  can  say  of  this  tendency  what  we 
can  hardly  say  of  a  theology  of  salvation  by  omnipotence. 
That  Christ  is  a  prophet  is  true  so  far  as  it  goes.  But  wThat 
becomes  of  the  necessity  of  the  rationalistic  Christ  ?  The 
great  prophet  reveals  certain  truths  and  furnishes  certain 
motives.  In  the  course  of  history,  many  agents  of  the 
divine  purpose  have  been  doing  that.  This  would  leave 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  first  among  equals,  but  with  an  insecure 
primacy,  and  liable  to  be  superseded  by  some  ‘  other  ’ 
for  whom  we  might  ‘  look.’  It  would  need  a  sweeping 
reinterpretation  of  what  we  mean  by  revelation  to  safe¬ 
guard  this  doctrine  and  make  it  adequate  to  the  Christian 
thought.  When  our  restatement  was  complete,  we  should 
assuredly  have  discovered  in  Christ  more  than  a  prophet. 

1  And  is  not  externally  determined  by  anything  else  whatsoever. 


196 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Another  effort  to  show  how  the  grace  of  Christ  actually 
reaches  and  moves  the  individual  human  heart  directs 
us  to  the  psychological  influence  of  forgiveness.  At  the 
present  day,  this  appeal  is  characteristic  of  Dr.  Denney. 
He  never  tires  of  expounding  how  a  sense  of  guilt  and  then 
of  pardon  melts  the  heart  and  remoulds  it  into  the  image 
of  God.  One  has  no  desire  to  disparage  this  train  of  thought. 
Like  the  last,  it  is  all  true  so  far  as  it  goes  ;  and  perhaps 
it  goes  further.  But  is  it  the  whole  truth  ?  Practically, 
whatever  his  theories  may  say,  Dr.  Denney  seems  to 
answer  Yes.  It  follows  inevitably  that  he  has  little  taste 
for  Romans  vi-viii.  Except  as  he  can  read  substitu¬ 
tionary  punishment  into  these  chapters,  and  read  out 
again  the  glories  of  forgiveness,  they  count  for  little  with 
one  of  our  most  brilliant  if  hardest  theological  minds.  On 
this  interpretation,  Christ’s  salvation  of  human  souls  belongs 
to  His  ‘  office  as  a  priest.’  In  the  doctrine  of  Christ’s 
priesthood  and  sacrifice,  evangelicalism  technically  so- 
called  has  always  felt  itself  at  home.  But  the  natural 
bearing  of  priesthood  is  on  God.1  The  interest  of  Dr. 
Denney’s  theology  is  that  he  has  ceased  to  be  exclusively 
occupied  with  the  God  ward  aspect  of  Christ’s  work — or, 
in  man,  exclusively  with  the  assurance  of  peace  to 
the  conscience — and  that  he  seeks  to  discover  powerful 
moral  energies  in  the  very  essence  of  the  gospel. 
The  drawback  is  that,  like  great  political  leaders,  while 
he  sees  with  extraordinary  clearness  what  lies  in  the 
focus  of  his  thought,  he  is  blind  to  everything  else. 
One-sidedness  may  for  the  moment  be  strength  to  the 
partisan,  but  it  is  impoverishment  to  the  church  of  Christ. 
It  will  not  do  to  teach  or  even  to  suggest  that  mankind 
are  renewed  and  sanctified  exclusively  by  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  being  forgiven. 

Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  Ritschl’s  theology  than 
his  treatment  of  the  Three  Offices,  and  nowhere  is  his 

i  Socinus  long  ago  posed  the  question  :  Numquid  erga  Deum  effectrit  1 


XVH.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


197 


advance  upon  Schleiermacher  more  manifest.  The  king- 
ship,  says  Ritschl,  is  not  a  special  office,  but  the  central 
designation  of  Christ  the  Messiah  as  Christ.  We  are  left 
then  with  two  offices  or  aspects.  As  royal  prophet  Christ 
represents  God  to  men,  while  as  royal  priest  Christ  repre¬ 
sents  men  before  God.  The  first  is  the  Abelardian  tradi¬ 
tion,  the  second  the  Anselmic.  In  his  own  doctrine  of 
Christ  as  Head  of  the  community  Ritschl  claims  to  com¬ 
bine  the  full  truth  of  both  positions.  M‘Leod  Campbell 
similarly  divides  his  study  of  the  central  part  of  the  Atone¬ 
ment  into  4  Christ  as  representing  God  to  men,’  and  4  Christ 
as  representing  men  before  God.’  But  he  breaks  ground 
untouched  by  Ritschl  when  he  subdivides,1  recognising 
under  each  of  these  a  4  retrospective  ’  and  a  4  prospective  ’ 
aspect  of  Atonement.  The  retrospective  aspect  of  Christ’s 
dealing  with  God  contains  Campbell’s  reconstruction  of 
the  old  doctrine  of  substitutionary  Atonement.  We  are 
more  interested  here  in  the  other  4  retrospective  ’  aspect 
of  Christ’s  work — viz.  as  dealing  with  4  men.’  If  that 
could  be  satisfactorily  expounded,  it  would  furnish  what 
we  are  now  seeking — an  explanation  (for  our  faith,  if  not 
altogether  for  our  understanding)  of  the  process  by 
which  Christ’s  purity  eats  out  the  taint  of  sin  from  the 
human  family.  Campbell,  however,  devotes  very  few 
pages  to  this  part  of  his  subject.  One  questions  whether 
they  do  not  owe  their  place  rather  to  the  symmetry  of  his 
scheme  than  to  any  living  insight,  even  on  the  part  of 
that  deeply  religious  mind,  into  this  phase  of  the  mystery 
of  godliness.  The  4  retrospectiveness  ’  of  Christ’s  gracious 
teaching  closely  resembles  what  other  pages  discuss  under 
its  4  prospectiveness.’ 

We  must  conclude  that  the  scheme  of  the  Three  Offices 
fails  to  help  us  in  our  study  of  the  conquest  of  sin,  and 

1  To  speak  by  the  card,  the  chapter  headings  are  ‘Retrospective’  and 
‘Prospective,’  the  Godward  and  mamvard  references  being  subdivisions 
under  each. 


198 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


does  no  justice  to  what  divines  call  the  c  physical 5  basis 
of  the  Christian  salvation.  Even  as  remodelled — inde¬ 
pendently,  and  to  different  degrees,  by  Ritschl  and  by 
M‘Leod  Campbell — it  still  fails  to  tell  us  how  the  fruits 
of  Christ’s  work  touch  and  transform  human  hearts. 

We  turn  from  these  modern  essays  to  the  greatest 
biblical  statement  on  the  subject,  at  Romans  vi-viii. 
The  discussion  there  is  bound  up  with  the  obscure  Pauline 
designation  of  the  principle  of  sin  as  4  flesh.’  It  appears 
as  if  the  apostle  taught,  though  possibly  only  in  later  years, 
that  Christ’s  presence  among  men  in  ‘  the  exact  likeness 
of  a  body  of  sinful  flesh  ’ 1  rendered  Him  personally,  and 
even  apart  from  His  representative  character,  liable  to 
death  as  a  penal  infliction.  By  dying,  and  by  rising  again 
as  pure  Spirit  with  all  the  potencies  of  the  divine,  Christ 
became  effectively  the  Saviour  of  men.  His  people  enter 
into  what  may  not  unfitly  be  called  *  mystic  ’  fellowship 
with  Him.  Notably  they  do  this  at  baptism. 

Ritschl  is  not  well  qualified  for  doing  justice  to  this 
passage.  He  proposes  to  subordinate  it  to  the  discussion 
of  reconciliation,  but  in  practice  comes  near  to  forcing  it 
on  one  side  and  denying  it  any  recognition.  Others 
again — like  a  distinguished  contributor  to  the  present 
series,  Dr.  Peake — are  so  interested  in  studying  the  morally 
redeeming  forces  proceeding  from  Christ  that  they  dismiss 
the  theology  of  justification  to  a  secondary  place.  To  do  so 
is  characteristically  modern,  but  not  perhaps  perfectly  wise. 

Ritschl  is  disqualified  from  doing  full  justice  to  this 
train  of  thought ;  but  can  we  entirely  repel  his  strictures  ? 
Will  any  Protestant  evangelical  feel  himself  able  to  accept 
at  their  full  value,  as  dogmatic  truths,  the  brilliant  imagina¬ 
tive  formulae  by  which  Paul  explains  the  origins  of  man’s 

1  Dr.  Denney  seems  to  be  able  to  accept  the  view  that  ‘  likeness  ’ 
(Rom.  viii.  3)  asserts  Christ’s  similarity  to  us  rather  than  His  distinctive 
sinlessness,  just  because  he  convinces  himself  that  Paul  taught  the  fall  of 
human  nature  in  Adam.  We  have  concluded  that  more  probably  Paul  had 
formulated  no  finding  whatever  on  that  point. 


XVII.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


199 


new  life  in  the  experiences  of  the  Saviour  ?  Are  we 
seriously  to  be  asked  to  affirm  that  one  part  of  Christ’s 
victory  was  due  to  His  becoming  a  disembodied  spirit  ? 
Are  evangelicals  seriously  to  be  asked  to  attach  dogmatic 
value  to  the  Pauline  symbolism  of  baptism  ? 

What  remains  with  us  from  St.  Paul  is  this  at  least,  that 
Christ  passed  through  processes  of  moral  and  spiritual 
experience  which  constitute  Him  a  fountain  of  saving 
influences  to  those  who  trust  Him.  He  died  ;  and  we 
can  see  that  death  is  the  utmost  test  of  faithfulness,  the 
highest  possible  reach  of  devotion  towards  God  and  men. 
He  died  by  human  sin ;  willingly,  though  with  mysterious 
horror,  yielding  Himself  to  the  Father’s  appointment ; 
and  so  His  divine-human  life  was  constituted  the  fountain¬ 
head  of  a  new  humanity  redeemed  from  sin  to  God.  He 
died  as  He  lived,  without  sin  ;  therefore  there  was  no 
flaw  in  that  new  humanity  which  He  bequeathed  to  us. 
According  to  universalism,  it  is  mechanically  necessary 
that  every  soul  of  man  should  choose  the  good.  According 
to  Augustinianism,  it  is  mechanically  necessary  that  the 
elect  should  choose  the  good,1  and  mechanically  impos¬ 
sible  that  any  non-elect  soul  should  do  so.  We  must 
rather  recognise  that  in  Christ  crucified  and  risen  there  is 
stored  up  all  that  is  necessary  to  create  a  new  heart  in  the 
individual,  and  a  new  society  where  God’s  will  shall  be 
done  4  as  in  heaven.’  Through  that  faith  we  may  and 
must,  as  believers  even  more  than  as  baptized  men,  reckon 
ourselves  dead  to  sin  and  alive  to  God  through  Christ. 
But  we  dare  not  hold  that  there  is  any  magical  necessi- 
tation  in  the  spell  of  Jesus.  The  power  is  there,  to  its 
last  and  fullest  perfection.  Yet  this  is  He  who  Himself 
said  :  *  I  would — ye  would  not.’ 

While  a  doctrine  of  the  conquest  of  sin  is  liable  to  be 
criticised  by  orthodoxy  as  at  best  superfluous,  it  is  also 
criticised  by  extremists  in  modernism.  Such  critics  have 

1  If  the  word  ‘  choose  ’  can  be  properly  employed  in  such  a  context. 


200 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


passed  beyond  the  stage  of  being  less  interested  in  forgive¬ 
ness  than  in  the  reform  or  new  creation  of  the  soul.  They 
are  impatient  of  any  doctrine  of  sin.  They  find  it  negative 
and  meaningless.  To  get  rid  of  sin  we  need  only  acquire 
goodness.  Let  in  the  light  and  the  darkness  will  go. 
Our  nature  as  men  and  our  history  as  a  race  are  progres¬ 
sive.  The  qualitative  contrast  between  sin  and  holi¬ 
ness  is  adroitly  transformed  into  a  quantitative  contrast 
between  the  more  and  the  less  advanced — the  better  souls, 
and  the  inferior  but  still  essentially  good  souls.  How  else, 
we  are  asked,  since  God  is  ‘  immanent  ’  ? 

Let  us  try  to  meet  with  s}^mpathy  all  that  is  true  here. 
We  have  already  acknowledged  the  danger  of  being  too 
pathological  and  of  studying  goodness  too  exclusively  in 
negative  values.  It  is  true  that  the  problem  set  us  is 
not  to  return  from  sin  to  an  imagined  neutrality,  but  to 
rise— whether  from  creaturelv  weakness  or  from  the  stain 
of  evil — to  a  perfected  Christian  manhood  in  the  full 
light  of  God.  It  is  true  that  morality  as  well  as  physical 
science  speaks  to  us  of  progress,  and  that  we  must  look 
for  growth  in  the  Christian  life ;  with  its  humble  begin¬ 
nings  ;  with  its  saddening  relapses ;  but  also  ‘  in  due 
season,’  4  if  we  faint  not,’  with  all  the  wonder  and  the  joy 
of  harvest. 

But  there  is  another  side.  We  believe  in  a  God  above 
nature.  We  believe  in  Christ  as  well  as  in  duty  or  con¬ 
science  ;  and  in  Christ  are  summed  up  all  the  positive 
forces  of  the  new  life,  as  truly  as  all  the  associated  negative 
processes  of  deliverance.  We  know,  too,  how  experience 
of  the  presence  of  God  shatters  the  attitude  of  self-com¬ 
placency  in  which  the  doctrines  we  are  criticising  thrive. 

‘  Now  mine  eye  seeth  thee,  therefore  I  abhor  myself.’ 
Let  us  say  it  once  more  :  the  moral  consciousness  leads  us 
to  the  very  verge  of  religion — of  faith  in  God  and  humble 
repentance  before  Him.  Surely,  when  the  fanatics  of 
modernism  meet  the  Son  of  Man  face  to  face,  they  will 


XVII.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


201 


count  if  need  be  even  modernism  as  refuse  that  they  may 
win  Christ  and  be  found  in  Him. 

Apart  from  efforts  to  show  how  the  new  life  came  into 
being  in  Christ,  various  attempts  have  been  made  to  show 
how  the  sacred  contagion  spreads  from  Him  to  us. 

Schleiermacher  made  great  use  of  the  conception  of 
Sinlessness.  We  are  to  be  saved  by  sharing  Christ’s  sin¬ 
less  perfection.  Everything  else,  such  as  forgiveness,  is 
incidental.  Obviously  this  contains  much  that  appeals  to 
a  modern  mind,  and  I  do  not  know  that  we  can  call  the 
formula  false.  If  extreme  modernists  object  to  its  nega¬ 
tive  form,  does  not  the  objection  reveal  their  neglect  of 
God  ?  For  in  His  presence  what  we  call  the  smallest 
sin  becomes  intolerable.  Yet  the  formula  is  not  biblical, 
and  perhaps  it  is  misleading.  As  we  know  the  Christian 
life  here  and  now,  Christian  character  is  not  always,  if 
ever,  sinless. 

M‘Leod  Campbell  makes  great  use  of  the  conception  of 
Christ’s  filial  righteousness.  The  distinctive  element  which 
Christ  contributes  to  human  goodness  is  the  fellowship  of 
His  Sonship  towards  God,  with  its  correlate  of  brother¬ 
hood  towards  men.  This  is  surely  deep  truth  ;  and  yet 
possibly  even  this  is  not  absolutely  central. 

We  might  be  content  to  expound  Christ  rather  as  pos¬ 
sessor  of  the  knowledge  of  God.1  As  sin  centrally  is  neither 
weakness  nor  carnality  but  loss  of  touch  with  God,  so 
redemption  centrally  is  conscious  and  graciously  given 
fellowship  with  Him.  Such  fellowship  we  may  fitly 
recognise  as  the  subjective  spring  of  all  Christian  goodness. 

A  suggestion  in  a  different  direction  may  be  recalled. 
Schleiermacher  in  part,  and  Ritschl  more  strongly,  assign 
a  great  place  to  the  Church  as  the  specific  creation  of  our 

1  Verbally  this  is  quite  in  the  vein  of  Schleiermacher ;  but  Schleiermacher 
substitutes  a  quasi-philosophical  ‘God-consciousness’  for  that  ethical  and 
experimental  knowledge  of  God  which  the  Bible  praises. 


202 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


Lord.  While  making  no  hierarchical  implications,  they 
find  in  the  church  high  theological  and  religious  value. 
Christ  saves  us  by  placing  us  within  a  community  of 
redemption.1  Solitary  salvation  is  unthinkable.  It  is 
as  a  fellowship  and  as  a  common  experience  that  Chris¬ 
tianity  wins  the  world.  The  train  of  thought  may  be 
criticised.  Some  dismiss  it  summarily  as  a  mere  disguise 
for  rationalism.  They  would  contend  that  the  saving 
influences  of  Christ  if  located  in  an  outward  fellowship 
do  not  amount  to  real  salvation  at  all.  Yet  the  easy 
criticism  is  rarely  the  satisfactory  verdict.  Whatever 
else  is  true  about  redemption,  the  New  Testament  compels 
us  to  see  in  it  more  than  an  individual  blessing  ;  and  the 
constitution  and  preservation  of  a  church  must  be  recog¬ 
nised  as  part  of  the  Redeemer’s  work  Nothing  but 
ill-will  or  prejudice  could  suggest  that  this  interpretation 
excludes  all  complementary  readings  of  the  great  mystery. 

There  is  yet  another  question  to  consider.  How  far 
does  the  redemption  of  character  advance  within  the 
present  fife  ?  Does  it  always  imply  sinlessness  ?  Does 
it  sometimes  reach  that  point  ?  Or  never  ? 

On  this  as  on  several  details  the  teaching  of  the  New 
Testament  seems  to  be  indefinite.  We  may,  if  we  choose, 
say  that  eschatological  enthusiasm  prevented  definition. 
Christians  were  looking  for  the  ‘  passing  away  ’  of  the  world 
and  the  coming  of  c  grace.’  Great  things  were  moment¬ 
arily  possible,  but  how  much  greater  were  the  things  just 
at  hand  !  Rigorist  sects  show  the  after-working  of  this 
enthusiasm.  In  the  great  Church  only  a  few  saints  are 
held  to  break  the  monotony  of  universal  sinlessness 2 ; 
and  Protestantism  denies  the  few  exceptions.  In  modern 
times  the  hope  of  sinlessness  is  again  heard  of,  its  greatest 
champion  being  Wesley. 

1  ADng  with  which  Ritschl  would  ask  us  to  take  the  Kingdom  of  God  as 
the  fellowship  of  ethical  service. 

2  Technically,  of  course,  they  are  not  defined  as  sinless  beings. 


XVII.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


203 


Against  perfectionism  orthodoxy  appeals  to  the  standard 
of  moral  law,1  and  reiterates  that  4  no  mere  man  since  the 
fall  is  able  in  this  life  perfectly  to  keep  the  command¬ 
ments  of  God,  but  doth  daily  break  them  in  thought, 
word,  and  deed.’ 2  This  surely  supplies  our  last  and  clearest 
ground  for  breaking  with  the  theology  of  moral  law.  One 
would  not  press  technical  forms  of  expression  ;  but  is  this 
a  mere  technicality  ?  According  to  St.  Paul,  4  Sin  shall 
not  have  dominion  over  you,  for  ye  are  not  under  law 
but  under  grace.’  According  to  school  Protestantism, 
‘  Sin  shall  have  extensive  dominion  over  you,  for  ye  are 
permanently  under  law.’  Has  Christ’s  redemption  made 
no  appreciable  difference  to  the  possibilities  of  human 
character  ?  A  definition  involving  such  results  is  surely 
a  blunder.  Who  can  do  his  best  if  assured  beforehand 
that  he  is  destined  to  fail  ? 

A  striking  plea  for  something  like  perfectionism  is  found 
in  Professor  A.  G.  Hogg’s  Christ's  Message  of  the  Kingdom. 
The  unpretending  form  3  in  which  his  work  is  issued  must 
not  disguise  from  us  the  solid  scholarly  knowledge  behind 
it,  or  the  seriousness  of  the  suggestions  it  makes.  Professor 
Hogg  is  keenly  interested  in  the  eschatological  interpre¬ 
tation  of  Christ’s  words.  He  suggests,  however,  that  the 
sayings  about  the  imminence  of  kingdom  and  judgment 
may  have  contained  a  moral  element,  such  as  we  recog¬ 
nise  in  other  prophecies.  They  may  have  been  hypo¬ 
thetical,  not  categorical.  If  so,  the  words  were  a  challenge 
to  faith  and  zeal  in  the  days  of  Christ’s  flesh.  Faith  and 
zeal  largely  failed  then,  although  the  failure  was  more 
than  compensated  by  the  Master’s  own  faithfulness  unto 
death.  The  same  words  survive  !  They  challenge  faith 
and  zeal  in  us  to-day. 

1  So  the  late  Rev.  J.  F.  Macpherson,  who  was  well  qualified  to  speak  for 
orthodoxy.  I  refer  to  papers  in  the  British  Weekly. 

3  Westminster  Assembly’s  Shorter  Catechism. 

3  But  is  it  quite  fair  to  submit  such  novelties  to  study  circles  and  prayer 
circles  ? 


204 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[cn. 


Modem  study  often  distinguishes  between  the  kernel 
of  the  gospel  and  the  husk.  Eschatological  excitement 
has  been  widely  regarded  as  a  time  wrapping,  long  since 
thrown  away.  Mr.  Hogg  asks  us  to  reconsider  that  view. 
What  if  the  thing  we  have  been  calling  husk  is  part  of 
the  precious  kernel  ?  Had  we  but  a  little  more  faith  and 
loyalty,  might  we  not  work  miracles  ?  Might  we  not  be 
done  with  sin  ?  Can  God  be  unwilling  ?  He  gave  these 
gifts  to  Christ’s  age  ;  has  that  age  any  boundaries  ?  If 
we  seek  the  gifts,  will  not  the  same  Father  bestow  them 
through  the  same  channel  of  the  Divine  Son  ? 

It  has  been  necessary  in  writing  the  present  little  book 
to  make  up  one’s  mind  on  an  infinite  number  of  perplexed 
questions.  Happily  we  have  no  need  to  deal  with  a 
question  so  remote  from  our  doctrine  as  the  interesting 
problem  of  modern  healings.  But  the  possibility  of  sin¬ 
lessness  is  a  question  lying  full  in  our  track.  What  are 
we  to  say  regarding  it  ? 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  connection  between 
the  sinful  individual  and  the  world.  Is  not  a  false  note 
struck  when,  the  world  being  so  half  redeemed  or  so  un¬ 
redeemed  as  it  is,  one  who  is  not  the  world’s  redeemer 
lays  claim  to  sinlessness  ?  Who  can  trace  the  ramifica¬ 
tions  of  influence  so  as  to  say :  *  I  have  no  responsibility 
whatever  for  the  evil  round  me  ’  ? 

Again,  we  may  quote  St.  Paul :  I  know  nothing  against 
myself.  Yet  am  I  not  hereby  justified  ;  but  he  that  judgeth 
me  is  the  Lord.  What  have  those  to  do  with  the  praise  of 
sinlessness  who  have  still  to  appear  at  the  bar  of  Christ  ? 
Either  to  claim  sinlessness,  or  to  ascribe  it  to  others,  is 
surely  to  judge  before  the  time  and  before  the  Lord  comes , 
with  vindication  for  the  misjudged  and  exposure  for 
hypocrites. 

Finally,  we  have  Christ’s  saying :  Why  callest  thou  me 
good  ?  None  is  good  but  God.  In  the  divine  presence 
is  it  not  unseemly  to  imagine  the  very  possibility  of  our 


XVII.] 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  SIN 


205 


having  already  attained  and  been  made  perfect  ?  Humble 
dependence  upon  God  in  Christ  is  our  only  wisdom. 

Refusing  then  to  define  the  moral  tasks  of  Christians 
as  a  priori  impossible,  we  would  also  refuse  to  affirm 
individual  sinlessness  or  even  to  discuss  its  possibility, 
before  the  day  when  the  great  company  of  the  redeemed 
in  the  church  of  Christ  by  God’s  own  sentence  are  declared 
faultless . 


206 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[ch. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY  OF  SIN 

The  thought  of  punishment  has  to  struggle  hard  for  life 
in  this  age  of  materialistic  softness.  We  may  approach 
it,  like  other  great  truths,  through  our  experiences  in 
the  family  and  in  the  state.  Ultimately  the  judge  of  all 
is  God,  and  His  administration  sums  up  and  transcends 
all  lesser  moral  experiences.  Punishment  from  Him  will 
be  punishment  indeed.  Yet  we  must  not  forget  that  He 
who  gives  Himself  to  this  strange  work  is  God  our  Father. 

In  the  family  we  meet  with  chastisement  rather  than 
with  strict  punishment.  Chastisements  are  meant  prim¬ 
arily  to  improve.  A  second  alleged  distinction  is  that 
chastisement  of  a  child  does  not  involve  shame  like  the 
punishment  of  an  adult  citizen.  This  surely  might  be  better 
expressed.  The  child  is  not  fully  responsible  nor  fully 
guilty  ;  hence  the  comparative  absence  of  disgrace.  But 
while  deserved  chastisement  improves,  unjust  punish¬ 
ment  of  a  child — punishment  resented  not  merely  by  the 
passion  of  a  moment  but  by  the  persistent  verdict  of  his 
conscience — will  go  near  to  ruin  him.  Thus  through  the 
distinctive  features  of  chastisement  imposed  by  love  we 
can  detect  the  sterner  lineaments  of  a  punishment  decreed 
by  justice.  Correspondingly,  the  very  punishments  of 
our  maturity,  with  all  their  bitterness,  may  prove  to  us 
healing  chastisements,  if  we  will  have  it  so.  This  may 


XVIII.] 


THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY 


207 


prove  true  even  of  legal  penalties,  and  of  these  as  in¬ 
flicted  even  by  imperfectly  ethicised  human  governments. 
May  we  go  further  ?  An  analogy  is  drawn  between 
childish  immaturity  and  the  misbehaviour  of  children  of 
a  larger  growth  in  Coventry  Patmore’s  touching  verses, 
The  Toys.  Their  teaching  has  been  called  ‘  deadly,’  1 
and  if  the  verses  meant  to  write  off  sins  as  peccadilloes 
one  must  concur ;  but  need  it  be  so  ?  Like  as  a  father 
pities  his  children,  yet  does  not  omit  to  punish,  will  not 
the  Father  of  our  spirits,  while  punishing  us,  note  also 
our  littleness  and  rawness  and  profoundly  pity  us  ? 

There  are  many  reasons  why  we  cannot  absolutely 
contrast  punishing  with  chastising.  ‘  Behold,’  says  St. 
Paul,  ‘  the  goodness  and  severity  of  God  ;  toward  them 
that  fell  severity  but  toward  thee  goodness.’  We  humbly 
receive  the  apostle’s  admonition  ;  yet  as  modern  Christians, 
striving  to  learn  by  the  age-long  discipline  of  God,  we  have 
to  compare  as  well  as  contrast  the  two  things.  The  higher 
seems  to  involve  the  lower ;  the  lower  in  turn  may  pass 
into  the  higher.  We  cannot  but  believe  that  God’s  severity 
continually  reveals  His  goodness,  and  again  that  His 
goodness  itself  is  severe.  And  we  find  Him  because  of 
this  the  more  wonderful  and  the  more  divine. 

Punishment  cannot  be  excluded  from  domestic  disci¬ 
pline  ;  but  the  very  idea  of  capital  punishment  seems  irre¬ 
concilable  with  family  life.  The  Old  Testament  contains 
a  terrible  law  for  dealing  with  a  wicked  son.2  It  says 
nothing  about  the  age  of  the  doomed  malefactor.  In  any 
case,  the  Christian  spirit  must  repudiate  such  a  law. 
Juvenile  offenders  against  the  law  of  the  land,  under  the 
actual  judiciary  and  administration  of  modern  countries, 
are  not  treated  as  fully  responsible  and  never  as  irreclaim¬ 
able.  The  danger  rather  is  to-day  that  the  young  criminal 
may  have  moral  helps  and  opportunities  which  his 
neighbour  who  keeps  clear  of  crime  does  not  receive. 

1  By  Sir  W.  Robertson  Nicoll.  2  Deut.  xxi.  18-21. 


208  CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN  [ch. 

Still,  however  difficult  to  apply  it,  the  principle  is 
unescapable. 

When  we  exchange  youth  and  the  family  for  the  state 
properly  so-called,  we  enter  a  very  different  moral  climate. 
The  state,  through  all  history  and  at  the  present  day,  is 
the  region  of  organised  force — of  force  organised  for  social 
and  moral  ends.  If  force  is  a  wrong  thing,  the  Christian 
must  turn  Tolstoyist,  agitate  for  the  disbanding  not  only 
of  army  and  navy  but  of  the  police,  and  withdraw  his 
loyalty  from  the  ordinances  of  man  and  from  the  apostles 
of  Christ.  Will  it  be  said  that  he  has  to  do  this  in  obedience 
to  Christ’s  own  teaching  ?  Surely  such  a  view  lays  alto¬ 
gether  exaggerated  emphasis  on  the  few  verses  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  which  speak  of  non-resistance.1  At 
a  not  much  earlier  point  in  the  Sermon,  Christ  has  spoken 
of  penalties  to  be  unsparingly  inflicted  (Matt.  v.  25,  26). 
The  Old  Testament  believed  in  punishment,  and  Christ 
reverences  the  Old  Testament.  Indeed,  as  the  eschato¬ 
logical  school  have  so  loudly  insisted,  Jesus  lived  and 
taught  under  the  menacing  cloud  of  a  supreme  divine 
judgment.  The  exaggerated  modern  catchword,  ‘  Force  is 
no  remedy,’ 2  has  to  reckon  not  only  with  the  world’s 
common  sense  but  with  the  world’s  conscience  ;  and  not 
with  these  only  but  with  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent.  So 
long  as  the  Lord  reigns,  force  is  part  of  His  remedy  for  sin. 

Correspondingly,  the  business  of  the  state,  as  known 
in  history  or  as  described  in  Scripture,  is  to  employ  the 
implement  which  St.  Paul  calls  a  sword  and  Mr.  Roosevelt 
more  colloquially  a  big  stick.  The  civilised  world  was 
taken  aback  when  Lord  Salisbury  addressed  a  menacing 
speech  to  Sultan  Abdul  Hamid  and  presently  explained 
that  no  practical  policy  was  to  follow  it  up ;  a  preacher , 
he  said,  did  not  capture  and  punish  evil-doers.  Precisely  ! 

1  I)o  they  not  point  to  giving  up  personal  revenge?  Compare  1  Peter  iii.  9. 

2  John  Bright. 


XVIII.] 


THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY 


209 


But  is  a  magistrate  a  simple  moral  theorist  ?  Lord 
Salisbury  was  head  of  a  national  administration.1 


Three  theories  have  been  advanced  in  explanation  of 
the  penalties  inflicted  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  state  : 
first,  that  of  retribution;  secondly,  of  reformation;  and, 
thirdly,  of  deterrence.  We  must  hold  that  all  three  motives 
enter  into  the  policy  of  a  moralised  state,  but  the  first  is 
central.  No  punishment  is  good  which  may  not  hope  to 
reclaim.  None  is  good  which  does  not  deter  other  citizens 
from  similar  crimes.  But,  above  all,  punishment  must 
be  deserved.  Other  aims  are  kept  in  view  by  the  state, 
not  so  much  in  order  to  do  its  duty  in  punishing,  but  in 
order  to  do  its  duty — so  far  as  it  may — in  building  up  the 
good  life.  That  is  doubtless  a  higher  task  than  penal 
justice.  Still,  punishment  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the 
state’s  moral  activities.  Its  primary  obligation  in  the 
presence  of  crime  is  towards  those  who  are  law-abiding. 
And  its  primary  duty  towards  the  criminal  himself  is  not 
to  reform  him  but  to  punish  him.  It  will  reform  him  if  it 
can  ;  punish  him  it  must.  As  in  the  home  so  in  the  prison, 
punishment  recognised  as  just  and  accepted  with  true 
repentance  may  well  help  to  reclaim  ;  but  if  regarded 
merely  as  the  force  of  the  stronger  it  will  irritate  or 
madden. 

The  case  is  very  similar  with  deterrence.  A  public 
conscience  must  be  formed  in  support  of  state  penalties. 

1  One  might  illustrate  by  a  ludicrous  saying  attributed  to  the  late 
Benjamin  Jowett.  Some  one  in  his  hearing  having  described  a  bishop  as 
greater  than  a  judge  because  ‘the  judge  can  only  say  You  be  hanged,  but 
the  bishop  says  You  be  damned’ — ‘Yes,’  rejoined  Jowett,  ‘but  when  the 
judge  says  You  be  hanged,  you  are  hanged.’  The  saying  deserves  to  be  well 
pondered.  Apart  from  its  pungent  scepticism  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth 
in  it.  Civil  punishments  ought  to  be  certain,  prompt,  irresistible. 

The  feminist  agitators  for  a  vote,  who  trade  upon  sex  weakness,  are  doing 
their  best  to  mine  the  foundations  of  society.  But  the  Passive  Resisters  first 
set  the  evil  example.  ‘  Be  subject  to  every  human  ordinance,  for  the  Lord’s 
sake.’  ‘  Ye  must  needs  be  subject,  not  only  for  the  wrath,  but  also  for 
conscience  sake.  For  for  this  cause  ye  pay  tribute  also :  for  he  is  God’s 
minister.  .  .  .  Render  therefore  to  all  their  dues.  ’ 


O 


210 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


To  be  deterred  simply  ‘  for  wrath  ’  is  not  to  be  moralised, 
but  rather  driven  further  from  goodness ;  to  discover  in 
the  state’s  penalty  moral  authority  addressing  the  con¬ 
science  is  to  learn  at  least  initial  lessons  in  goodness.  On 
the  other  hand,  punishment  beyond  the  amount  that  best 
deters  cannot  be  justified  in  human  administration.  The 
state’s  tribunal  is  not  the  ultimate  moral  tribunal  of  the 
universe.  And  conscience  will  assure  us  that  under  almost 
all  conceivable  circumstances  a  penalty  too  severe  to 
deter  is  also  unjust. 

One  extreme  view  would  hold  that  justice  is  scarcely 
more  than  an  alias  for  convenience.  Fitz James  Stephen, 
in  a  brilliant  perverse  book,1  claimed  that  impartiality  was 
the  whole  of  justice.  Should  the  law  decree  that  red- 
haired  men  are  to  be  hanged,  it  is  ‘  unjust  ’  to  hang  under 
that  statute  any  man  whose  hair  is  black,  and  perhaps  to 
omit  hanging  the  man  whose  hair  is  red  ;  but  there  is  no 
meaning  in  calling  a  law  unjust.  We  may  at  once  grant 
that  impartiality  in  the  interpretation  of  law  is  the  first 
clear  demand  of  justice.  But  can  it  ever  pass  as  the  whole  ? 
Behind  all  our  clumsy  approximations  there  is  a  pattern  of 
absolute  Justice  shown  us  in  the  Mount.  No  community 
of  civilised  men,  unless  among  sophists  or  possibly  among 
dons,  would  recognise  the  ‘  just  ’  hanging  of  red-haired 
men  as  other  than  an  insulting  mockery  of  all  justice. 

An  opposite  extreme  would  try  to  measure  due  penalty 
by  an  exact  law.  Distributive  justice  works  with  definite 
quantities.  One  must  pay  one’s  debts  before  one  may 
begin  to  show  generosity  in  giving.  If  there  is  a  dispute 
about  property,  law  must  side  with  one  claimant  and 
non-suit  the  other.  Or,  if  it  orders  a  division,  law  must 
decide  precisely  how  much  is  to  be  allotted  to  each.  But 
corrective  justice  cannot  reach  such  quantitative  exact¬ 
ness.  An  old  attempt  in  that  direction  is  found  in  the 
lex  talionis.  We  regard  that  type  of  punishment  as 

1  Liberty,  Equality ,  Fraternity. 


xvm.] 


THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY 


211 


barbarous  and  not  just.  Only  perhaps  in  the  case  of 
capital  punishment  does  the  appeal  retain  its  force.  To 
take  life  under  ordinary  conditions,  from  those  guilty  of 
lesser  crimes,  shocks  us.  We  feel  it  to  be  wicked.  To 
omit  the  taking  of  the  murderer’s  life  shocks  the  instinc¬ 
tive  conscience  (Gen.  ix.  6). 

The  general  principle  of  punishment  would  seem  to 
be  that  the  criminal  has  put  himself  wrong  with  the  state, 
and  must  pay  such  penalty  as  the  general  welfare  makes 
it  needful  to  require.  It  is  a  ghastly  incident  of  war 
if  a  commander  has  to  order  those  guilty  not  only  of 
outrage  but  even  of  looting  to  be  shot.  Yet  the  man 
who  pays  a  revolting  but  necessary  penalty  has  no  right 
to  speak  of  injustice  if  he  is  guilty,  if  he  has  been  warned, 
and  if  the  penalty  is  impartially  exacted. 

Out  of  the  mass  of  lesser  penalties  with  their  mixed 
motives  the  dreadful  figure  of  capital  punishment  isolates 
itself ;  for  it  seeks  to  secure  hardly  anything  more  than 
the  execution  of  justice.  No  one  can  fail  to  shrink  from 
‘  the  hideous  symbol  of  a  deliberately  inflicted  sudden 
death.’  A  blunder  here  can  never  be  rectified.  It  is 
truly  an  awful  thing  for  man  to  do  to  man,  not  in  the  heat 
of  passion,  or  amid  the  clamour  of  battle,  but  with  the 
icy  coldness  and  deliberation  of  law.  Perhaps  the  wisdom 
or  unwisdom  of  a  death  penalty  must  be  decided  by  a 
study  of  deterrence.  If  the  substitution  of  minor  penalties 
leads  to  no  increase  in  murders,  the  state  may  feel  bound 
to  confine  itself  to  less  tragic  sanctions.  Yet  one  fears 
something  would  be  lost  if  capital  punishment  were 
abandoned.  Such  naked  and  unrelieved  punishment  is 
a  specially  eloquent  witness  to  responsibility  and  guilt. 
The  state  says  to  the  murderer,  ‘  My  business  is  not  to 
reform  you  but  to  strike  you  dead.’  Rightly  the  state 
adds,  ‘  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul,’  for  the 
human  state  is  no  supreme  court  of  justice.  As  the 
rigorist  sects  of  early  Christians  admitted  the  possibility 


212 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


of  hope  in  God  for  those  who  had  sinned  unto  death,  but 
felt  that  on  their  own  part  unmixed  severity  was  called 
for,  so  must  the  state  feel  towards  the  wilful  shedder  of 
blood.  This  is  the  ideal  of  punishment  as  corresponding 
to  supreme  guilt — something  swift  and  fatal.  To  torture 
— to  inflict  pain  before  putting  to  death — is  revolting. 
To  allow  sentimental  pity  for  the  criminal  to  empty  our 
minds  of  mercy  for  his  victims  and  of  sacred  justice  is 
not  less  deeply  immoral.1 

It  may  seem  strange  to  spend  so  much  time  in  a  short 
theological  book  upon  questions  of  human  law.  Yet  this 
is  done  deliberately.  If  our  theology  is  to  be  anything 
better  than  a  castle  in  the  air,  we  must  learn  our  thoughts 
of  God  and  of  His  ways  partly  from  teachings  given  us  in 
the  life  of  the  state.  And  the  sophists  who  destroy  the 
basis  of  personal  religion  begin  their  mischievous  work  by 
degrading  state-law  out  of  all  touch  with  essential  justice. 
The  meshes  of  human  penalty  cannot  but  be  coarse.  Some 
of  the  guiltier  escape,  while  many  of  the  less  guilty  are 
entangled.  Sometimes  even  the  innocent  are  made 
victims,  and  in  the  name  of  justice  wrong  is  perpetrated. 
Yet  upon  the  whole,  in  spite  of  human  errors,  God  fulfils 
Himself  to  some  degree  by  means  of  this  harsh  machinery ; 
and  there  is  little  wisdom  and  less  mercy  in  fighting  against 
God.  If  the  state  is  to  rank  as  more  than  a  social  con¬ 
venience,  if  human  government  is  to  serve  moral  ends, 
it  must  punish  the  forms  of  guilt  which  fall  under  its 
cognisance.  Were  the  citizen  too  trivial  to  be  punished,  he 
must  sink  into  part  of  the  mechanism  of  nature — too  paltry 
to  be  ennobled  by  the  love  of  man  or  by  the  fear  of  God. 

Another  theory  tries  to  define  punishment  in  terms  of 

1  When  Bacon  calls  revenge  a  ‘wild  justice’  he  points  to  a  significant 
truth.  Even  in  revengeful  feeling  there  is  a  crude  sense  of  right  which 
craves  to  be  evolved  into  something  purer.  Bacon  does  not  say,  what  the 
sophists  who  quote  him  constantly  insinuate,  that  justice  is  never  anything 
but  a  thinly  disguised  revenge. 


XV  m.] 


THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY 


213 


consequences.  Looking  away  from  the  family  and  the  state, 
it  discovers  things  in  human  life  that  may  in  a  sense  be 
called  penal ;  but  it  explains  these  as  simply  the  effects 
of  previous  acts.  To  sin  is  4  to  break  the  laws  of  nature.’ 
And  the  laws  of  nature  automatically  punish  wrongdoing. 
‘  Consequences,’  says  George  Eliot,  4  are  unpitying.’ 

Perhaps  there  are  really  two  distinct  theories  which 
speak  in  these  terms.  One  declares  1  that  the  study  of 
natural  causation  will  reveal  all  that  is  true  or  equitable 
in  regard  to  punishment.  The  other  is  a  phase  of  Christian 
rationalism.  It  recognises  God,  but  a  God  so  immanent 
in  the  forces  of  His  world  that  He  can  take  no  action  in 
support  of  justice  beyond  the  slow  working  of  natural  law. 

If  this  were  given  to  us  as  part  of  the  truth,  we  could 
only  welcome  it.  It  was  long  ago  worked  out  by  the 
sombre  genius  of  Butler  in  Part  i  of  the  Analogy.  Granted 
a  boundless  continuance  of  the  working  of  moral  tendency, 
we  can  see  that  chance  will  be  eliminated,  and  that  each 
man  will  receive  in  the  end  according  to  his  deeds.  4  Every 
day,’  it  has  been  said,  ‘  is  judgment  day.’  Or  judgment 
will  fulfil  itself  ;  Whatsoever  a  man  someth ,  that  shall  he  also 
reap.  Yet  one  fears  that  the  guilty  conscience  might  be 
slow  indeed  to  recognise  justice  in  the  working  out  of  con¬ 
sequences.  Those  who  amuse  themselves  with  games  of 
chance  know  what  extraordinary  4  runs  of  luck  ’  occur  ; 
what  a  large  sweep  of  evidence  is  needed,  and  what  careful 
statistics,  to  prove  the  real  difference  between  good  and 
bad  play.  Whatever  moral  truth  is  taught  (by  St.  Paul 
or  others)  under  the  imagery  of  natural  law,  it  needs  to 
be  complemented  by  the  vision  of  a  God  passing  judg¬ 
ment  upon  us  and  making  us  know  at  last  that  we  are 
in  His  hands. 

Another  suggestion  has  been  advanced  in  the  name  of 
consequences.  Sin — continued  and  increased  sin — has 
been  regarded  as  sin’s  true  punishment.  Surely  there  is 

1  With  Herbert  Spencer. 


214 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 

a  mistake  here  !  It  might  please  Diabolus  well  that  sin 
should  inevitably  result  in  more  sin.  A  divine  being  who 
made  such  appointment,  if  He  made  no  other  would  of 
course  not  be  merciful ;  but  would  He  be  at  all  righteous  ? 
To  use  such  terms  is  metaphor  or  epigram,  not  theology 
or  religion. 

We  pass  on  at  length  to  the  subject  of  immediate  and 
proper  divine  punishments.  Yet  we  do  not  leave  the 
subjects  we  have  already  considered.  Mediation  and  imme¬ 
diacy  are  distinctions  that  hold  for  us  rather  than  for  God. 
In  the  family,  in  the  state,  in  the  workings  of  providence, 
God  is  making  for  righteousness  and  punishing  sin.  But 
there  is  more  to  be  said  than  this.  Particularly,  we  have 
to  face  once  more  in  this  highest  region  the  question 
whether  justice  exists.  If  justice  is  among  the  rules  of 
God’s  action,  it  is  woven  into  the  texture  of  ultimate  fact. 
Whereas,  if  God  never  inflicts  punishment  in  the  interests 
of  justice,  that  whole  mode  of  thinking  must  be  relegated 
to  ‘  appearance  ’  in  contrast  with  ‘  reality.’  We  contend 
here  that  justice  is  part  of  the  truth  of  God’s  ways,  though 
not  the  whole  and  not  the  highest  part. 

It  is  necessary  to  contemplate  the  collapse  of  the  idea 
of  justice  not  only  among  adherents  of  naturalism,  but 
among  many  theologians  and  Christian  men.  Dr.  Orchard 
writes  a  book  on  sin  in  which  he  deliberately  refuses  to 
say  anything  about  guilt.  Canon  Temple  1  repudiates  as 
‘  wholly  without  foundation  ’  the  belief  that  ‘  wickedness 
ought  somehow  to  be  balanced  by  pain.’  The  same 
poisonous  moral  heresy  is  being  disseminated  by  the 
brilliant  clergyman  who  writes  in  the  Manchester  Guardian 
every  week,  under  the  signature  of  ‘  Artifex.’  If  the  founda¬ 
tion  he  destroyed,  what  can  the  righteous  do  ?  2 

1  The  Faith  and  Modern  Thought ,  p.  140. 

2  When  Bishop  Butler  wrote,  such  views  were  characteristic  of  Tindal’s 
deism.  Their  vogue  in  contemporary  Anglicanism  seems  to  date  from 
Moberly’s  Atonement  and  Personality. 


XVIII.] 


THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY 


215 


When  the  robber  on  the  cross  yielded  to  the  impress  of 
Christ’s  personality,  he  said  to  his  fellow,  ‘  We  indeed  are 
in  this  condemnation  justly,  for  we  receive  the  due  reward 
of  our  deeds.’  That  is  an  experience  of  priceless  moral 
value,  and  the  doctrine  of  the  modern  Sophists  renders 
it  meaningless.  When  the  prodigal  returned  home,  he 
made  his  confession,  ‘  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  against  thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy 
son.’  If  it  is  right  to  separate  the  thought  of  sin  from  that 
of  guilt,  the  prodigal  was  putting  himself  to  needless 
distress  ;  and  the  Lord  who  spoke  this  parable  as  the  light 
of  the  world  was  diffusing  not  light  but  darkness. 

We  stand  for  the  recognition  of  punishment,  though  not 
of  punishment  alone.  A  desire  to  bring  to  reformation 
will  surely  not  be  less  strong  in  God  our  Redeemer  than  it  is 
in  the  state,  but  incomparably  stronger.  There  must  also 
be  a  divine  purpose  to  deter ;  so  far  as  deterrence  works  on 
moral  lines,  by  appeal  to  the  conscience. 

Yet,  if  every  such  appeal  has  failed,  out  of  the  punish¬ 
ments  —  primarily  human  or  immediately  divine — which 
are  meant  to  reclaim  there  may  disengage  itself  that 
ultimate  punishment  of  sin  which  is  hardly  other  1  than 
unmixed  penalty.  The  capital  punishment  of  the  universe 
is  the  limiting  case  of  punishment  as  such.  Truly  it  is 
an  appalling  thought :  that  the  Father  God  should  despair 
of  any  lost  child,  and  surrender  him  to  destruction  !  That 
He  should  write  as  the  epitaph  on  any  human  life,  Better 
for  such  a  one  that  he  had  never  been  1  If  we  judged  in 
the  light  of  the  family  alone — and  Christ  calls  God  Father 
— we  must  dismiss  such  thoughts  as  a  bad  dream. 

But  our  materials  cannot  be  thus  summarily  simplified. 
To  speak  of  antinomy  in  Christian  doctrine  may  be  dubi¬ 
ously  wise ;  but  here,  if  anywhere,  one  might  discover 

1  At  most  the  Old  Testament  writes,  ‘  Morning  by  morning  I  will .  .  .  cut 
off  from  the  city  of  the  Lord  all  workers  of  iniquity,’  and  the  New  Testament, 
*  The  Son  of  Man  shall  send  forth  his  angels,  and  they  shall  gather  out  of  his 
kingdom  all .  .  .  that  do  iniquity.’ 


216 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


[CH. 


two  lines  of  ascertainable  moral  truths  in  seemingly 
sharpest  antagonism.  On  one  side  there  is  the  thought 
of  a  God  boundlessly  strong,  boundlessly  good  ;  the  God 
who  is  revealed  to  us  by  Christ  and  in  Christ ;  the  God 
who  sent  Christ.  On  the  other  side  there  is  the  unmis¬ 
takable  working  of  moral  tendency.  We  dare  not  sacrifice 
either  of  these  truths  to  the  other.  To  us,  as  Christian 
men  half-way  advanced  in  the  experiences  of  redemption, 
it  is  not  given  to  know  what  the  end  of  the  process  is  to 
be.  It  is  ours  to  work,  and  pray,  and  hope  ;  but  also  it 
is  ours  to  fear  and  to  warn.  This  dark  uncertainty  may 
be  part  of  the  penalty  or  of  the  chastening  appointed  by 
God  for  His  children  of  our  sinful  race,  that  we  may  not 
put  ourselves  at  ease  by  any  unauthorised  comfort.  It 
might  be  morally  impossible  for  those  half-redeemed  to 
be  given  the  promise  of  universal  escape.  Such  a  declara¬ 
tion  might  defeat  and  destroy  itself. 

The  darker  possibility  is  enforced  upon  us  in  one  of  the 
most  terrible  paragraphs  of  Bishop  Butler.  ‘  Reflections 
of  this  kind  are  not  without  their  terrors  to  serious  persons, 
the  most  free  from  enthusiasm,  and  of  the  greatest  strength 
of  mind  ;  but  it  is  fit  things  be  stated  and  considered  as 
they  really  are.  And  there  is,  in  the  present  age,  a  certain 
fearlessness  with  regard  to  what  may  be  hereafter  under 
the  government  of  God,  which  nothing  but  an  universally 
acknowledged  demonstration  on  the  side  of  atheism  can 
justify  ;  and  which  makes  it  quite  necessary  that  men 
be  reminded,  and  if  possible  made  to  feel,  that  there  is 
no  sort  of  ground  for  being  thus  presumptuous,  even  upon 
the  most  sceptical  principles.  For,  may  it  not  be  said  of 
any  person  upon  his  being  born  into  the  world,  he  may 
behave  so  as  to  be  of  no  service  to  it,  but  by  being  made 
an  example  of  the  woeful  effects  of  vice  and  folly  ?  That 
he  may,  as  any  one  may  if  he  will,  incur  an  infamous 
execution  from  the  hands  of  civil  justice  ;  or  in  some  other 
course  of  extravagance  shorten  his  days,  or  bring  upon 


xvm.] 


THE  ULTIMATE  PENALTY 


217 


himself  infamy  and  diseases  worse  than  death  ?  So  that 
it  had  been  better  for  him,  even  with  regard  to  this  present 
world,  that  he  had  never  been  born.  And  is  there  any 
pretence  of  reason  for  people  to  think  themselves  secure, 
and  talk  as  if  they  had  certain  proof  that,  let  them  act  as 
licentiously  as  they  will,  there  can  be  nothing  analogous  to 
this,  with  regard  to  a  future  and  more  general  interest, 
under  the  providence  and  government  of  the  same  God  ?  ’ 1 
In  still  more  sacred  words  we  have  the  same  warning, 
barely  half  relieved  with  a  gleam  of  light  at  the  end. 
‘  And  one  said  unto  him,  Lord,  are  they  few  that  be  saved  ? 
And  he  said  unto  them,  Strive  to  enter  in  by  the  narrow  door  ; 
for  many,  I  say  unto  you,  shall  seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not 
be  able .  When  once  the  master  of  the  house  is  risen  up,  and 
hath  shut  to  the  door,  and  ye  begin  to  stand  without,  and  to 
knock  at  the  door,  saying,  Lord,  open  to  us ;  and  he  shall 
answer  and  say  to  you,  I  know  you  not  whence  ye  are  ;  then 
shall  ye  begin  to  say,  We  did  eat  and  drink  in  thy  presence, 
and  thou  didst  teach  in  our  streets ;  and  he  shall  say,  I  tell 
you,  I  know  not  whence  ye  are ;  depart  from  me,  all  ye 
workers  of  iniquity.  There  shall  be  the  weeping  and  gnashing 
of  teeth,  when  ye  shall  see  Abraham ,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
and  all  the  prophets  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  yourselves 
cast  forth  without.  And  they  shall  come  from  the  east  and 
west,  and  from  the  north  and  south,  and  shall  sit  down  in 
the  kingdom  of  God.  And  behold  there  are  last  which  shall  be 
first,  and  there  are  first  which  shall  be  last.' 

l  Analogy ,  closing  paragraph  of  Part  I,  Chap.  ii. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Canon  E.  R.  Bernard’s  article  Sin  in  Hastings’  Dictionary  of  the 
Bible ,  vol.  iv.,  1902. 

0.  Kirn,  Siinde  in  Herzog-IIauck’s  Realmcyclopadie  fur  protes- 
tantische  Theologie  u.  Kirche,  vol.  xix.,  1907  ;  summarised  in 
article  Sin  of  Dr.  S.  M.  Jackson’s  New  Schaff- Herzog  Religious 
Encyclopedia,  vol.  x.,  1911. 

Prof.  H.  Wheeler  Robinson’s  able  and  scholarly  Christian  Doctrine 
of  Man  (1911)  covers  much  of  the  field  of  the  present  study. 


FOR  CHAPTERS  I- VIII 

Prof.  Charles’  Eschatology,  Hebrew,  Jewish,  and  Christian  (1899  ; 

2nd  enlarged  ed.,  1913),  on  all  eschatological  issues. 

Dr.  Carl  Clemen’s  Christliche  Lehre  von  der  Siinde ;  erster  Teilj 
die  biblische  Lehre;  a  volume  which  has  never  found  its  con¬ 
tinuation  ;  discusses  the  whole  biblical  material  (1897). 


FOR  CHAPTERS  I-III  PARTICULARLY 

OM  Testament  commentaries  in  the  Century  Bible. 

Kurzer  Handcommentar  zum  alien  Testament,  by  Marti,  Budde, 
Duhm,  and  others  ;  or  the  Handkommentar  of  Nowack,  etc. 
Hermann  Schultz.  Old  Testament  Theology.  Eng.  transl.  by 
Prof.  J.  A.  Paterson.  1892. 

W.  Robertson  Smith.  Religion  of  the  Semites:  Fundamental 
Institutions,  1890  ;  2nd  ed.  revised  by  the  author,  1894.  (Re¬ 
printed  1907.)  The  Old  Testament  in  the  Jewish  Church,  1881  ; 
2nd  ed.,  revised  by  the  author,  1892.  The  Prophets  of  Israel  [for 
the  earlier  prophets],  1882  ;  2nd  ed.  revised  by  Prof.  Cheyne, 
1902. 

E.  Kautzsch.  Art.  Religion  of  Israel  in  Hastings’  D.B.,  extra  vol., 
19°4. 

Prof.  A.  S.  Peake.  The  Problem  of  Suffering  in  the  Old  Testament. 
1904.  The  Religion  of  Israel  (‘Century  Bible  Handbooks’). 
1908. 


219 


■zzo 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


FOR  CHAPTER  IY  PARTICULARLY 

F.  Weber.  System  der  Altsynagogalen  paldstinischen  Theologie. 
[Posthumous.]  1880.  Reconstructed  by  editors  as  Judische 
Theologie  auf  Grund  des  Talmuds ,  u.s.w.  1897. 

Dr.  F.  C.  Porter.  ‘The  Y'eger  Hara’  in  Yale  Bicentennial  Publi¬ 
cations ,  Biblical  and  Semitic  Studies.  1901. 

Dr.  F.  R.  Tennant.  Sources  of  the  Doctrines  of  the  Fall  and 
Original  Sin.  1903. 

Dr.  W.  Bousset.  Religion  des  Judenthums  im  neutestamentlichen 
Zeitalter ,  1903  ;  2nd  ed.,  revised,  1906. 

Dr.  W.  Fairweather.  Background  of  the  Gospels.  1908. 

For  IVth  Ezra  see  G.  H.  Box.  The  Ezra  Apocalypse.  1912. 


FOR  CHAPTERS  V-VIII 

Dr.  B.  Weiss.  Biblical  Theology  of  the  New  Testament.  1868. 

Eng.  transl.  [good]  from  4th  ed.  (1884)  in  1888-9. 

W.  Beyschlag.  New  Testament  Theology.  1891-2.  Eng.  transl. 
1895. 

Especially  the  two  following  :  H.  J.  Holtzmann.  Lehrbuch  der 
neutestamentlichen  Theologie ,  1896  ;  2nd  ed.  [posthumous,  but 
edited  with  scrupulous  loyalty  by  distinguished  men]  1911. 
And  Dr.  P.  Feine.  Theologie  des  neuen  Testamentes ,  1910  ;  2nd 
ed.  [considerably  remodelled]  1911. 


FOR  CHAPTERS  V  AND  VI  PARTICULARLY 

Dr.  J.  Stalker.  Life  of  Jesus  Christ.  1879. 

Dr.  B.  Weiss.  Life  of  Christ.  1882,  etc.  Eng.  transl.  [needs  to 
be  checked]  1883-4. 

Alfred  Edersheim.  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah.  1883. 

Baldensperger’s  Selbstbewusstsein  Jesu ,  1st  ed.,  1888  [a  re¬ 
modelled  3rd  ed.  has  been  promised  since  1903],  and  J.  Weiss’s 
Jesu  Predigt  vom  Reiche  Gottes  (1892,  2nd  ed.  1900),  led  up  to 
Albert  Schweitzer’s  ‘eschatological’  reading  of  the  whole 
experience  of  Jesus  in  his  Das  Abendmahlsproblem ,  1901;  and 
still  more  in  the  accompanying  ‘  Heft  ’  Das  Messianitdts-  und 
Leidensgeheimniss  (same  year).  Schweitzer’s  brilliant  review 
of  modern  opinions  in  Von  Reimarus  zu  Wrede  (1906),  or, 
as  the  excellent  Eng.  transl.  of  1910  calls  it,  ‘The  Quest  of 
the  Historical  Jesus,’  restates  his  own  startling  theories  inci¬ 
dentally.  These  views  were  sympathetically,  though  with 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


221 


reserve,  laid  before  English  readers  in  Dr.  W.  Sanday’s  Life 
of  Christ  in  Recent  Research  (1907),  and  were  more  heartily 
welcomed  in  Dr.  F.  C.  Burkitt’s  ‘Eschatological  Idea  in  the 
Gospel’  ( Cambridge  Biblical  Essays,  1909)  on  behalf  of  liberal 
Protestantism,  as  also  by  George  Tyrrell’s  Christianity  at  the 
Cross  Roads  [1910,  posthumous]  on  behalf  of  Roman  Catholic 
Modernism.  Criticism  of  the  eschatological  reading  of  Christ 
may  be  found  in  E.  von  Dobschutz’s  The  Eschatology  of  the 
Gospels ,  1910;  or  in  C.  W.  Emmet’s  Eschatological  Question  in 
the  Gospels,  1911  ;  or  in  B.  H.  Streeter’s  fine  essay  on 
‘The  Historical  Christ’  in  Foundations,  1912.  See  also  A. 
Loisr,  L’Evangile  et  VA'glise,  1902  ;  2nd  ed.  1903;  Eng.  transl. 
1904  :  J.  M.  Moffatt,  Theology  of  the  Gospels,  1912. 

J.  Weiss’s  views  on  the  gospel  traditions  in  detail  will  be  found  in 
Meyer’s  Luke ,  ed.  8,  1892  ;  in  ed.  9  Luke  is  done  by  B. 
Weiss,  not  by  his  son  ;  also,  for  St.  Mark,  in  Das  diteste  Evan- 
gelium,  1903  ;  or  a  more  popular  treatment,  but  covering  the 
whole  of  the  Synoptics,  in  Die  Schriften  des  Neuen  Testaments 
.  .  .  fur  die  Gegenwart,  vol.  i.,  1906  ;  2nd  ed.  of  vol.  i.,  1907. 


FOR  CHAPTER  YII  PARTICULARLY 

Commentaries  on  Romans,  especially  Sanday  and  Headlam  ( Inter¬ 
national  Critical  Commentary ,  1901  ;  ed.  5,  1903,  and  re¬ 
prints)  ;  and  J.  Denney  (Expositor’s  Greek  Testament),  1901. 

Otto  Pfleiderer’s  Paulinism  (1883,  or  Eng.  transl.  of  same  year  ; 
modified  2nd  ed. — German — in  1890)  treated  Paul’s  doctrines  of 
sin  and  salvation  as  simply  an  inverted  Judaism,  and  Protestant 
orthodoxy  as  a  true  account  of  the  Pauline  world  of  thought. 
Other  streams  of  influence  bearing  on  St.  Paul  are  recognised  in 
Urchristentum,  1878  ;  2nd  enlarged  ed.,  1902.  Eng.  transl. 
[good],  ‘Primitive  Christianity,’  1906-11  (4  vols.).  Feine’s 
New  Testament  Theology,  named  above,  argues  that  Paul  is  less 
of  a  system-builder,  more  of  a  prophet  and  orator,  than  had 
been  realised  ;  while  K.  Lake’s  Earlier  Epistles  of  St.  Paid 
(1911)  makes  game  of  ‘Paulinismus,’  and  treats  Catholicism  as 
the  legitimate  child  of  the  Apostle’s  thought.  Holtzmann  and 
others  had  already  contended  for  a  strong  Hellenic  strain  in  the 
Pauline  theology. 


FOR  CHAPTER  IX 

Dr.  Adolf  Harnack’s  History  of  Dogma.  Eng.  transl.  in  7 
vols.  (1894-9),  representing  the  3  vols.  of  the  3rd  German 
ed.  [Translation  not  always  reliable.]  More  briefly  in  Lehrbuch 


222 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


der  Dogmengeschichte.  4th  ed.,  1909-10.  [Eng.  transl. — from  an 
earlier  edition — bad.] 

Hagenbach.  History  of  Doctrine.  Eng.  transl.  of  1883-5,  3  vols., 
represents  5th  German  ed.  Still  serviceable. 

G.  P.  Fisher.  History  of  Christian  Doctrine.  1896. 

Dr.  H.  B.  Workman.  Christian  Thought  to  the  Reformation. 
1911. 

Dr.  A.  C.  M‘Giffert.  Protestant  Thought  before  Kant.  1911. 


FOR  CHAPTER  X 

Dr.  F.  R.  Tennant.  Origin  and  Propagation  of  Sin.  1902. 

Dr.  W.  E.  Orchard.  Modern  Theories  of  Sin.  1909. 

For  Butler.  Dr.  Kilpatrick’s  edition  of  the  Three  Sermons  on 
Human  Nature.  Gladstone’s  or  Dean  Bernard’s  edition  of 
Analogy  and  of  the  whole  of  the  Sermons.  Acute  if  captious 
agnostic  criticism  in  Leslie  Stephen’s  History  of  English 
Thought  in  Eighteenth  Century ,  1876  ;  2nd  ed.  1881. 

For  Kant.  T.  K.  Abbott,  Kant’s  [ Critique  of  Practical  Reason 
and  other  Works  on  the ]  Theory  of  Ethics.  6th  ed.  1909. 
Some  passages  of  importance  excluded  by  Abbott  will  be  found 
in  Semple’s  Kant’s  Metaphysics  of  Ethics ,  3rd  ed.  1871  ;  but 
the  renderings  are  not  always  to  be  trusted. 

For  T.  H.  Green.  Works,  3  vols.  ;  more  especially  two  Intro¬ 
ductions  to  Hume’s  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  first  published 
in  1874 ;  and  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  published  (with  great 
editorial  care)  posthumously,  1883. 


FOR  CHAPTER  XI 

Tennant  and  Orchard,  as  above  (under  chap.  x.). 

E.  C.  Moore.  Outline  of  the  History  of  Protestant  Thouqht  since 
Kant.  1912. 

For  Schleiermacher.  Der  Christliche  Glaube,  u.s.w.  1821  ; 
2nd  ed.  1831. 

English  readers  may  consult  Dr.  George  Cross’s  Theology  of 
Schleiermacher ;  a  Condensed  Presentation  of  his  Chief  Work, 
The  Christian  Faith  (1911) ;  also  Dr.  W.  B.  Selbie’s  Schleier¬ 
macher ;  a  Critical  and  Historical  Study  (1913). 

Julius  Muller.  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin.  1839.  Urwick’s 
translation  of  1868,  cancelling  an  inefficient  one  by  another 
hand,  represents  the  German  5th  ed.  of  1866. 

J.  M‘Leod  Campbell.  Nature  of  the  Atonement.  1856.  An  im¬ 
portant  Introduction  was  prefixed  to  a  2nd  ed.  (Died,  1872.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


223 


For  Ritschl  and  his  theological  allies  : — A.  Ritschl.  The  Christian 
Doctrine  of  Justification  and  Reconciliation.  Yol.  i.  [History 
of  the  Doctrine]  1870  (admirable  tr.,  1872,  by  J.  S.  Black  and 
W.  Robertson  Smith)  ;  vol.  ii.  [Biblical]  1874 — untranslated  ; 
vol.  iii.  [Constructive]  1874  :  a  third  edition  of  this  volume 
appeared  in  1888,  and  has  been  excellently  translated  (1900) 
by  H.  R.  Mackintosh  and  A.  B.  Macaulay. 

Among  Ritschl’s  other  works,  the  XJnterricht  in  der  Christlichen 
Religion  (3rd  ed.  1886),  while  bewildering  as  a  Schoolbook,  is  a 
very  serviceable  summary  for  theologians  [4th  ed.,  1890,  is 
posthumous  and  identical  with  3rd]. 

Dr.  W.  Herrmann  is  best  represented  by  his  Verkehr  des  Christen 
mit  Gott,  translated  by  J.  S.  Stanyon  from  the  2nd  ed. 
( Communion  with  God ,  1895)  ;  the  same  translator  and  R.  W. 
Stewart  have  rendered  (1906)  the  4th  German  ed. 

English  readers  should  further  consult  Dr.  Garvie’s  Ritschlian 
Theology ,  1899  ;  2nd  ed.  1902. 

II.  Schultz.  Lehre  von  der  Gottheit  Christi;  Communicatio 
Idiomaturn.  1881. 

Harnack,  as  above  (chap.  ix.). 


FOR  CHAPTER  XII 
Tennant  and  Orchard,  as  above  (chap.  x.). 

Dr.  F.  J.  Hall  (American  High  Church  Clergyman).  Evolution  and 
the  Fall.  1910. 

Dr.  James  Orr.  Sin  as  a  Problem  of  To-day.  1910. 

S.  A.  M‘Dowall.  Evolution  and  the  Need  of  Atonement.  1912. 


FOR  CHAPTERS  XIII-XVIII 

(In  addition  to  works  already  mentioned,  especially  for  chapters  x.-xii.) 

Richard  Rothe.  Dogmatik  (1870  ;  posthumous,  i.  The  Con¬ 
sciousness  of  Sin.  ii.  of  Grace).  Theologische  Ethik  [his 
main  work],  1845-8  ;  2nd  and  revised  ed.  (partly  posthumous, 
but  loyally  and  worthily  edited  by  Holtzmann),  1867-72.  Zur 
Dogmatik ,  1863  ;  the  second  article  discusses  Revelation  in  the 
light  of  the  doctrine  of  sin. 

Otto  Pfleiderer,  Philosophy  of  Religion  on  the  Basis  of  its 
History ,  1878  ;  2nd  ed.  1883-4.  Eng.  Transl.  1886-8. 

Horace  Bushnell.  Nature  and  the  Supernatural.  1858.  The 
Vicarious  Sacrifice.  1866.  Forgiveness  and  Law.  1874. 

Charles  S^cretan.  La  Raisori  et  le  ( 'hristianisme.  1863. 

John  Tulloch.  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin.  1876. 


224 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


D.  W.  Simon.  The  Redemption  of  Man.  1889.  Reconciliation  by 

Incarnation.  1893. 

Dr.  (Bishop)  Gore.  ‘The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin’  in  Lux 

Mundi.  1 890. 

R.  C.  Moberly.  Atonement  and  Personality.  1901. 

G.  B.  Stevkns.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Salvation.  1905. 

E.  H.  Askwith.  ‘Sin  and  the  Need  of  Atonement’  in  Essays  on 

some  Theological  Questions  of  the  Day.  1905. 

H.  Y.  S.  Eck.  Sin  (Oxford  Library  of  Practical  Theology).  1907. 
Dr.  F.  R.  Tennant.  The  Concept  of  Sin.  1912. 

W.  D.  M‘Laren.  Our  Growing  Creed.  1912. 


GENERAL  INDEX 


Abiathar,  9. 

Adoptianism,  66  n.,  68. 

Agony,  75. 

Amos,  18,  etc. 

Animism,  31. 

Antinomies,  166,  etc.,  215. 
Apocrypha,  44,  etc. 

Apostasy,  93,  95  n. ,  171. 

Asham,  36.  See  Sin-offering. 

Asser,  Testament  of,  53  n. 
Atonement,  34  n.,  39,  75,  80,  81, 
188. 

Augustine,  95,  101,  etc.,  135. 

Azazel,  47.  See  Scapegoat. 

Bacon,  212  n. 

Baruch  (Syriac  Apocalypse),  52,  etc. 
Baruch  (Epistle),  48. 

Beelzebub,  48  n. 

Beet,  82. 

Belial,  48  n. 

Benevolence,  113,  etc. 

Bernard,  72. 

Bethel,  13. 

Blood,  34  n.,  39. 

Bohemianism,  177. 

Bowen,  96. 

Bradley,  122. 

Bright,  208. 

Bruce,  183  n. 

Budde,  9  n. ,  10  n. 

Buddhism,  66,  95  n.,  96  n. 

Bushnell,  163,  183. 

Butler,  18,  32,  112,  etc.,  119,  122, 
148,  163,  173,  213,  214  n.,  216, 


Caird,  Edward,  121,  etc. 

Calvinism,  86,  96,  105,  etc.,  109,  124, 
178,  195. 

Campbell,  J.  M.,  96  ».,  129,  etc.,  183, 
190,  193,  197,  201. 

Candlish,  130. 

Capital  punishment,  207,  211,  etc. 
Catechism,  Shorter,  96,  203. 
Catholicism,  87,  133  n. 

Chalmers,  108. 

Charles,  45,  etc.,  46  n.,  53,  54  n. 
Chemosh,  5,  7. 

Cheyne,  25  n.,  45  n. 

Clarke,  112,  116. 

Clemen,  108,  109  n. 

Concupiscence,  171. 

Conscience,  111,  113,  etc.,  129. 
Creationism,  101,  143,  163. 

Curse,  7,  etc. 

Daimonion ,  48. 

Dan,  13. 

Darwinism,  33,  137,  etc. 

Daub,  165  n. 

Davidson,  A.  B.,  25  n. 

Decalogue,  12,  etc. 

Defilement,  174,  etc.  See  Unclean¬ 
ness. 

Denney,  196,  198  n. 

Demon,  49. 

Deterrence,  209,  215. 

Deuteronomy,  23,  etc.,  29,  42,  54. 
Didache,  62  n. 

Dort,  106,  161. 

Drummond  (H.),  142  n. 


P 


226 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


Drummond  (J.),  55  n. 

Duhm,  10,  45. 

E,  14. 

Ecce  Homo ,  44,  56. 

Edwards,  107,  etc.,  131. 

Eli.  2,  36. 

Elijah,  12,  14,  59,  etc.,  61  n. 

Eliot,  George,  213. 

Enchiridion,  102. 

Enoch,  Book  of,  45,  etc. 

Enoch  (Slavonic),  53  n.t  55. 

Ephod,  16. 

Erskine,  Thomas,  96  n.f  129. 

Essenes,  54,  58. 

Ezekiel,  26,  etc.,  29,  36,  41,  44,  54, 
162  n. 

4  Ezra,  52,  etc. 

Fall,  51,  etc.,  81,  etc.,  100,  etc.,  128, 
137  n.,  140,  164. 

Farnell,  31,  34  n. 

Fasting,  61,  etc. 

Fatherhood  of  God,  62,  68,  130. 
Federal  theology,  106,  164. 

Feine,  74  n.,  82,  83  n. 

Finlayson,  142  n. 

Fiske,  141. 

‘  Flesh,’  71  n.,  83,  etc.,  165,  177,  etc., 
198. 

Forgiveness,  35,  134,  185,  etc. 
‘Formal  Freedom,’  103  n.,  152. 
Foster,  176. 

Freewill,  54,  etc.,  99,  102,  etc.,  107, 
119,  122,  125,  127,  152,  157,  164, 
182. 

Gehenna ,  49. 

Gideon,  16. 

Gibeonites,  9. 

Goethe,  12. 

Gomarus,  106. 

Green, T.  H.,  Ill,  etc.,  120,  etc.,  137. 

H,  32,  34. 

Habakkuk,  26  n. 


Hagenbach,  101  n. 

Hall,  137  n. 

Harms,  185. 

Harnack,  95,  102,  104,  135,  etc. 

‘  Heart,’  53,  71  n. 

Hebrews  (Epistle),  80,  92,  etc.,  97. 
Hegel,  112,  120,  etc.,  152,  165. 

Hell,  49,  etc. 

Herrmann,  132. 

Ilesedh,  21. 

Hezekiah,  23. 

Hobbes,  113. 

Hogg,  203,  etc. 

Holiness,  3,  etc.,  31,  etc. 

Holtzmann,  80. 

Hosea,  20,  etc. 

Howells,  149. 

Hume,  117,  120,  etc. 

Idealism,  112. 

Idolatry,  16,  23. 

Imputation,  theories,  81,  etc.,  105, 
etc. 

Infralapsarianism,  106. 

Irenseus,  100. 

Isaiah,  19,  21,  etc. 

2  Isaiah,  27,  etc.,  61,  188. 

J,  13,  16,  51. 

James  (Epistle),  88,  94,  etc.,  97. 
Jehoiachin,  27. 

Jephthah,  5  n. 

Jeremiah,  25,  etc.,  27,  29,  44. 

J  oab,  8. 

Job,  43,  48. 

John  (Gospel),  96  n. 

1  John,  94,  etc.,  97. 

Jonathan,  9,  etc. 

Josephus,  54. 

Josiah,  23,  25,  etc. 

Jowett,  209  n. 

Jude  (Epistle),  47,  88  n.,  96. 

Judith  (Book),  49. 

Kant,  117,  etc.,  120,  128,  148,  154, 
166,  174. 


GENERAL  INDEX 


227 


Kennedy,  A.  R.  S.,  31. 

Kilpatrick,  115  n. 

Kipper ,  Kopher,  35,  etc.  See  Atone. 
‘Kingdom  of  God,’  133,  etc.,  176. 
Kingly  office,  195,  etc. 

Lake,  K.,  92,  133  n. 

Lamarck,  138,  142  n. 

Lang,  Andrew,  161. 

Law,  88,  etc.,  154,  203. 

Leprosy,  30. 

Lex  talionis,  210. 

Luther,  105,  190. 

M'Dowall,  167. 

M‘Laren,  142  n. 

Macpherson,  203  n. 

Manasseh,  23,  etc.,  29. 

Marti,  45. 

Maurice,  177. 

Merit,  194. 

Messiah,  22,  46,  etc.,  65,  etc.,  73. 
Micah,  18,  19,  21  n. 

Minchah,  36,  38,  41. 

Missions,  71  n. 

Moberly,  183  n.,  214  n. 

Modernism,  200. 

Mohammedanism,  90  n. 

Molech,  49. 

Monolatry,  14, 17. 

Monotheism,  14,  17,  18. 

Moore,  35,  40  n. 

‘Moral  law,’  154,  203. 

Morison,  J.  Cotter,  182. 

Moses,  12. 

Miiller,  1,  103  n. ,  126,  etc.,  148,  154, 
164,  etc.,  168. 

Nicoll,  142  n.,  207. 

Omnipotence,  194. 

Orchard,  169,  174  n. ,  214. 

Origen,  100,  164. 

Original  sin,  101  n.,  104,  119,  125, 
134. 

Orr,  142,  164  n. 


P  (Priestly  Code),  14  n.,  27,  30,  32. 
Pardon,  35,  185. 

Passover,  41. 

Patmore,  207. 

Paton,  53. 

Paulinism,  67,  70,  76,  etc. 

Peake,  25,  26  n.,  82  n.,  165,  198. 
Pearson,  139  n. 

Pelagius,  55,  102,  134. 

Penal  substitution,  39,  40  n.,  80. 
Perfectionism,  202,  etc. 

Ptieiderer,  141,  169. 

Pharisees,  54,  58,  86. 

Philo,  55. 

Pirke  Aboth,  55. 

Placaeus,  105. 

Positive  commandments,  32. 
Postulates,  118,  190. 

Predestination,  102,  105. 

Priestly  office,  196,  etc. 

Prophetic  office,  196,  etc. 
Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  120,  etc. 
Pseudepigrapha,  44  n.,  59. 

Rabbinism,  44,  etc.,  53,  etc.,  71  n. 

‘  Radical  evil,’  119,  etc. 
Reconciliation  and  redemption,  192, 
etc. 

Repentance,  181,  etc.,  191. 
Retribution,  209,  etc. 

Rigorism,  97,  119,  122. 

Rigg,  131  n. 

Ritschl  (A.),  1,  37,  86,  130  n.,  132, 
etc.,  154,  156,  162,  173,  190,  192, 
etc.,  196,  etc.,  201,  etc. 

Ritschl  (O.),  108  n. 

Robinson,  156,  174  n. 

Romans  (Epistle),  77,  etc. 

Roosevelt,  208. 

Rothe,  158,  165,  180  n. 

Ryle  and  James,  55  n. 

Sabbath,  16. 

Sacerdotalism,  95. 

Sacraments,  57,  etc.,  95,  103,  105. 
Sacrifice,  5,  6,  20,  38,  etc. 


228 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


Sadducees,  54,  58. 

Salisbury,  Lord,  208. 

Samuel,  12. 

‘  Sanctification,’  192  n. 

Satan,  5,  48,  94,  178,  etc. 

Scapegoat,  30.  See  Azazel. 
Scbechter,  109. 

Sclileiermaclier,  108,  124,  etc.,  134, 
192,  etc.,  197,  201. 

Schultz,  37,  132. 

Schweitzer,  57,  59,  74. 

Scott,  129  ft. 

‘Second  death,’  46  ft.,  60. 

Secretan,  163  ft. 

Shedim,  48. 

Shema,  15,  17,  24. 

Shimei,  8. 

Simon,  D.  W.,  142  ft. 

Sinlessness,  156,  201,  etc. 
Sin-offering,  41,  188,  etc.  See 

A  s  ham. 

Sirach,  51. 

Smith,  G.  A.,  21. 

Smith,  W.  R.,2,  30  w.,  34  ft.,  37  etc., 
43  ft. ,  50  w. 

Socinus,  196  ft. 

Solomon,  Psalms  of,  46,  etc.,  54,  etc. 
‘  Son  of  Man,’  46,  69. 

Spirit,  Holy,  72,  93,  129. 

Stalker,  65. 

Stephen,  J.  F.,  210. 

Stephen,  L.,  115. 

Stoicism,  96  n.,  100,  111,  113. 
Sublapsarianism,  106. 
Supralapsarianism,  106. 


Taboo  4,  11,  31. 
Temple,  Canon,  214. 


Tennyson,  141  ft.,  144. 

Tennant,  52  ft.,  53,  53  ft.,  55  ft.,  100, 
108  ft.,  115,  118  ft.,  141,  143. 
Tertullian,  100,  etc.,  103  ft. 
Theological  Review ,  25  ft.,  183  ft. 
Tindal,  214  n. 

Tobit  (Book),  48. 

Tolstoy,  208. 

Totemism,  38. 

Tradncianism,  100,  ete. ,  107, 141, 163. 
Transfiguration,  66  ft.,  73. 

Twisse,  106. 

Uncleanness,  30,  etc.,  33,  57,  71. 

See  Defilement. 

Universalism,  96  ft.,  126,  215. 

Venial  sin,  171,  etc. 

Vinet,  176,  etc. 

Voltaire,  141  n. 

Voluntary  theory,  176. 

Wallace,  A.  R.,  140,  etc. 

Ward,  James,  167  ft. 

Weber,  53,  54  n. 

Weismann,  138,  etc. 

Weiss,  B.,  65,  71. 

Weiss,  J.,  69  ft.,  73. 

Wesley,  202. 

Wisdom,  Book  of,  51,  54. 

Wolff,  117. 

Worldliness,  150,  176,  etc. 

Wrath,  6,  7,  135. 

Yetztr  hara,  53  85. 

Zebach ,  36. 

Zechariah,  30,  etc.,  33. 

Zerubbabel,  27. 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS 


Genesis, 

iii. 

p.  50. 

iv. 

26,  p.  13  n. 

f  > 

vi. 

1,  p.  47. 

>> 

vi. 

5,  p.  53. 

M 

viii 

.  21,  p.  53. 

>  9 

ix. 

6,  p.  211. 

Exodus, 

XX. 

,  p.  12,  etc. 

XX. 

5,  p.  10. 

M 

xxv.  10,  p.  189. 

xxx.  12,  p.  37. 

>  » 

xxxii.,  pp.  13-14. 

*5 

xxxiv.,  p.  12,  etc. 

Leviticus,  xiv.,  p.  30. 

,,  xvi.,  pp.  30,  34,  47  n. 

,,  xvii.  11,  p.  39. 

,,  xviii.  24,  p.  34. 

Numbers,  x.  32,  p.  37  n. 

,,  xvi.  46,  p.  6. 

,,  xxi.,  p.  23. 

,,  xxvii.  3,  p.  51. 

Deuteronomy,  v.,  p.  14. 

,,  xxi.,  18-21,  p.  207. 

,,  xxiv.  16,  pp.  10,  15. 

,,  xxvii.  26,  p.  79. 

,,  xxxii.  17,  p.  48. 

Judges,  xi.  24,  p.  5  n. 

,,  xvii. -xviii.,  p.  13  n. 

,,  xvii.  2,  p.  8. 

,,  xix.,  p.  11. 

1  Samuel,  iii.  14,  p.  36. 

,,  xiv.,  p.  9. 

„  xxv.  22,  p.  9. 

,,  xxvi.  19.,  pp.  6,  38. 

2  Samuel,  xxi.  1-14,  p.  9. 

,,  xxiv.  4,  p.  37. 

1  Kings,  ii.,  p.  8  n. 


1  Kings,  viii.  46,  p.  50. 

2  Kings,  iii.  27,  p.  5. 

„  iv.  23,  p.  16  n. 

,,  xii.  16,  p.  35. 

,,  xviii.  4,  p.  23. 

,,  xxii.  11,  p.  24. 

1  Chronicles,  xxi.  1,  p.  48. 

2  Chronicles,  vi.  36,  p.  50. 

Job,  xlii.  6,  pp.  22,  43,  159,  200. 

Psalm,  ii.  2,  pp.  22  n.y  66  n. 

,,  xvi.,  p.  45  n. 

,,  xvii.,  p.  45  n. 

,,  xix.  12-13,  p.  92. 

,,  xxii.,  p.  28. 

,,  xxv.  11,  p.  191. 

,,  xxvi.,  p.  42. 

,,  xxxii.,  p.  42. 

,,  xxxii.  5,  p.  186. 

,,  xxxix.,  pp.  45  n.,  51. 

„  xl.,  p.  42. 

,,  xliv.,  p.  42. 

,,  xlix.  15,  p.  45  n. 

,,  1.,  p.  42,  45  n. 

,,  li. ,  pp.  34,  42. 

,,  li.  17,  p.  183. 

,,  lxxiii.  24,  p.  45  n. 

,,  lxxix.  6,  7,  p.  92. 

,,  xc.,  p.  51. 

,,  xci.  16,  p.  45  n. 

,,  ci.  8,  p.  215  n. 

,,  cvi.  37,  p.  48. 

Proverbs,  xvi.  6,  p.  187  n. 

,,  xxi.  3,  p.  42. 

,,  xxvi.  2,  p.  8  n. 

Ecclesiastes,  i.  2 ;  xi.  8,  p.  52. 

,,  vii.  20,  pp.  43,  50. 

229 


230 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SIN 


Isaiah,  i.  2,  p.  18. 

„  i.,  26,  p.  14. 

„  ii.  2,  3,  p.  71  n. 

,,  iii.  15,  p.  19  n. 

„  vi.,  pp.  21,  159,  162. 

,,  viii.  16,  p.  25  ?t. 

,,  xxiv.-xxvii.,  p.  45,  etc. 

,,  xl.-lv.,  p.  30. 

„  xl.  2,  p.  28. 

,,  xlii.  1,  p.  66  n. 

,,  liii. ,  pp.  22  n.,  27 ,  28,  80 

,,  liii.  10,  p.  36. 

,,  liii.  12,  pp.  74,  75. 

,,  lxvi.  24,  p.  49. 

Jeremiah,  ii.  2,  p.  14. 

,,  x.  25,  p.  92. 

„  xi.,  p.  25. 

,,  xiii.  23,  p.  26. 

,,  xvii.  9,  p.  26. 

,,  xxii.  15,  16,  p.  92. 

,,  xxxi.  30,  p.  15. 

„  xxxi.  31,  pp.  26  n.}  27,  75. 

Ezekiel,  xviii.,  p.  162  «. 

,,  xxxvi.  25,  p.  27. 

,,  xxxvii.,  p.  45. 

,,  xl.-xlviii.,  p.  27. 

Daniel,  iv.  27,  p.  187  n. 

,,  xii.  2,  pp.  45,  49. 

Hosea,  vi.  2,  p.  45. 

,,  xi.  8,  p.  21. 

Amos,  iii.  2,  p.  19. 

,,  v.  25,  26,  p.  20. 

,,  ix.  7,  p.  19. 

Micah,  iv.  1,  2,  p.  71  n. 

,,  vi.,  p.  36. 

Zechariah,  iii.,  pp.  30,  33,  48. 

,,  v.,  pp.  30,  31. 

,,  vii.,  p.  30  n. 

„  ix.  11,  pp.  74,  75. 

Matthew,  iii.  9,  p.  58  n. 

„  iii.  14,  15,  p.  61  n. 

,,  v.  25,  26,  p.  208. 

,,  xi.  2,  etc.,  pp.  59,  62  n. 

,,  xiii.  41,  p.  215  n. 

„  xv.,  p.  71  n. 

„  xvi.  1,  p.  71. 


Matthew,  xvi.  13,  etc.,  p.  73. 

,,  xvi.  18,  19,  p.  97. 

,,  xviii.  17,  p.  97. 

,,  xix.  20,  etc.,  p.  73. 

,,  xxv.  41,  p.  50. 

,,  xxvi.  24,  p.  215. 

,,  xxvi.  28,  p.  74. 

Mark,  ii.  20,  p.  62  n. 

,,  viii.  27,  etc. ,  p.  73. 

,,  ix.  19,  pp.  72,  73. 

,,  x.  14,  pp.  148,  204. 

,,  x.  27,  p.  168. 

„  xiv.  24,  p.  74. 

Luke,  i.,  p.  56. 

,,  iii.  8,  p.  58  n. 

„  iii.  10-14,  p.  60. 

,,  v.  8,  pp.  22,  159. 

,,  vii.  18,  etc.,  pp.  59,  62  iy 
,,  xiii.  16,  p.  48. 

,,  xiii.  23-30,  p.  217. 

,,  xiii.  33,  p.  72. 

,,  xv.  18,  pp.  182,  215. 

,,  xxii.  24-27,  p.  74. 

,,  xxiii.  34,  pp.  89,  172. 

,,  xxiii.  41,  p.  215. 

John,  i.  21,  p.  59  n. 

,,  i.  29,  pp.  31,  61  n. 

„  vi.  70,  p.  48. 

,,  viii.  55,  p.  92. 

,,  x.  41.  p.  62. 

,,  xvi.  3,  p.  92. 

,,  xx.  22,  p.  97. 

Acts,  iii.  17,  p.  89. 

,,  vii.  53,  p.  85  n. 

,,  vii.  60,  p.  89  n. 

,,  xiii.  27,  p.  91. 

,,  xiv.  15  etc.,  p.  90. 

,,  xvii.  23,  30,  p.  90. 

Romans,  i. ,  p.  160. 

,,  i.  20,  p.  90. 

,,  i.  28,  p.  91. 

„  ii.  12,  pp.  79,  86. 

,,  ii.  13,  p.  135. 

,,  iii.  6,  p.  80. 

,,  iii.  21,  p.  80. 

„  iii.  22,  p.  79. 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS 


231 


Romans,  iii.  25,  p.  90  n. 

iii  26,  pp.  80,  81. 

iii.  27,  p.  80. 

iv.  2,  p.  80. 

iv.  15,  p.  86. 

v. ,  pp.  100,  106. 

v.  8,  10,  p.  81. 
v.  12,  pp.  78,  81,  etc. 

v.  13,  p.  86. 
y.  20,  p.  86. 

vi. -viii.,  p.  84,  etc.,  196,  etc. 

vi.,  p.  104. 

vi.  14,  p.  203. 

vii. ,  p.  130. 

vii.  13,  p.  86. 

viii.  4,  p.  96. 

viii.  20,  p.  52. 
viii.  34,  p.  48. 

x.  12,  p.  79. 

xi.  22,  pp.  96,  207. 
xiii.  5-7,  p.  209  n. 

1  Corinthians,  ii.  8,  pp.  48  w.,  91. 


99 

iv.  4,  5,  p.  204. 

99 

iii.  9,  p 

.  208  n. 

99 

v.  3-5,  p.  94  n. 

99 

iii.  13, 

p.  209  n. 

9) 

vi.  9,  p.  87. 

2  Peter, 

ii.  4,  p 

50  n. 

99 

viii.  3,  91  n. 

1  John, 

i.  7,  p. 

191. 

99 

ix.  27,  p.  96. 

I  » 

i.  8,  p. 

94. 

99 

x.  4,  96. 

99 

i.  9,  p. 

94,  186. 

99 

xi.  30,  93. 

99 

i.  10,  p 

94. 

99 

xv.  3-11,  pp.  80,  88. 

99 

ii.  1,  2, 

p.  95. 

2  Corinthians,  ii.  7-11,  p.  94. 

99 

iii.  5,  pp.  31,  61  n. 

99 

iii.  9,  p.  81. 

99 

iii.  6,  9 

p.  94. 

99 

x.  8,  p.  96  n. 

99 

v.  16,  pp.  92,  95,  172. 

99 

xii.  7,  p.  48. 

99 

v.  18,  p 

.  94. 

99 

xiii.  10,  p.  96  n. 

Revelation,  xii. 

10,  p.  48. 

Galatians, 

ii.  2,  p.  77. 

»» 

XX. 

14,  p.  50. 

99 

99 

9) 


Galatians,  iii.  10,  p.  79. 

iv.  3,  9,  p.  48. 
iv.  8,  9,  p.  91. 
vi.  1,  pp.  94,  95. 

,,  vi.  7,  pp.  87,  135,  213. 
Ephesians,  i.  10,  p.  91  n. 

,,  iv.  18,  p.  91. 
Colossians,  i.  20,  pp.  48,  91. 

,,  ii.  18,  p.  48. 

1  Timothy,  i.  13,  p.  89. 

,,  i.  20,  p.  94. 

Titus,  ii.  12,  p.  175. 

Hebrews,  ii.  2,  85  n. 

iv.  15,  p.  92. 

v.  2,  p.  92. 

vi.  4,  p.  92. 

ix.  7,  p.  92. 

ix.  22,  p.  34  n. 

x.  26,  p.  92. 

xii.  17,  p.  187. 

James,  v.  16-20,  pp.  94,  95. 

1  Peter,  i.  14,  p.  90. 


Date  Due 


